


Midnight

by witch0000



Series: Redemption [1]
Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack in Serena's Walls, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Don't Judge Me, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fred Waterford is an asshole, Frenemies, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, June and Serena are making me insane, Next move is hers, Power Imbalance, Sex, Shameless Smut, holy hotness Serena, mention of suicide warning signs and danger, serena has a heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 45
Words: 88,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch0000/pseuds/witch0000
Summary: This picks up at Season Two Episode 13 when Serena Joy and the Commander return home after Serena has had her finger severed for possessing and reading aloud from a book. The fact that the two women can become co-conspirators struck me as astounding. Their relationship is truly a marvel of layered richness, treachery, loathing and even sometimes, respect.
Relationships: June Osborne | Offred & Serena Joy Waterford, June Osborne | Offred/Serena Joy Waterford
Series: Redemption [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906195
Comments: 108
Kudos: 95





	1. Severance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this fandom, and I expect this story to evolve into an unknown number of chapters, simply because I'm obsessed with June and Serena's relationship and its many layers. The title comes from the song Midnight by Electric Light Orchestra. I have not thought about this song in forever, but it seems to fit the mood of June and Serena's relationship and a sense of longing. I hope you enjoy it and I would love to hear your comments and thoughts. I apologize for being beta-less at the moment, but I endeavor to be careful.
> 
> Lyrics to Midnight, by Electric Light Orchestra
> 
> Midnight, on the water  
> I saw the ocean's daughter  
> Walking on a wave's chicane  
> Staring as she called my name
> 
> And I can't get it out of my head  
> No, I can't get it out of my head  
> Now my whole world is gone for dead  
> 'Cause I can't get it out of my head
> 
> Breakdown on the shoreline  
> Can't move, it's an ebbtide  
> Morning, don't get here tonight  
> Searching for her silver light
> 
> And I can't get it out of my head  
> No, I can't get it out of my head  
> Now my whole world is gone for dead  
> 'Cause I can't get it out of my head, no how?  
> Bank job in the city  
> Robin Hood and William Tell  
> And Ivanhoe and Lancelot  
> They don't envy me  
> Sitting 'til the sun goes down  
> In dreams the world keeps going 'round and 'round
> 
> And I can't get it out of my head  
> No, I can't get it out of my head  
> Now my whole world is gone for dead  
> 'Cause I can't get it out of my head  
> And I can't get it out of my head  
> No, I can't get it out of my head  
> Now my whole world is gone for dead  
> 'Cause I can't get it out of my head, no how, no now

“What happened, Serena?”

Wordlessly, Serena unwraps her mutilated hand, displaying her freshly-amputated pinky.

June watches in slow motion as the bandage is unwound and swallows the bile that has built up in her throat. Her breath catches as the magnitude and the horror of what the Gilead elite had done to one of their poster-girls threatens to overwhelm her.

“I tried. I…” Serena says softly.

“I know you did, Serena,” June said, sitting beside her.

“You probably think this is the least that I deserve--that part of a finger is nothing compared to what your lot in this world is. And maybe you’re right. I deserve this and more,” Serena said.

“No one deserves to be maimed for reading a book. No one,” June said.

“We both know I did much more than that though. If they knew a quarter of what I did while Fred was in the hospital, I’d be hanging on the wall with a hood over my head.”

“Did they interrogate you?” June asked wondering vaguely if the black van would be coming for her soon.

“The only thing they asked me is where I got the book, and I told the truth. That a household member found it while cleaning out Eden’s personal effects and brought it to me immediately as they didn’t want to be caught with it in their possession. I didn’t say it was you,” Serena said, looking up at June hoping for some acknowledgment from the young handmaid. June reached over and covered Serena’s uninjured hand with her own, her compassion winning out over her impotent rage at all the sins Serena had committed against her.

“The Commanders were sufficiently horrified that I was in possession of a book—even if it was the Bible—and that I had the audacity to read out loud from it in front of the Council of Commanders,” Serena said. “Whether they suspected that more had happened while Fred was incapacitated, I don’t know. I’m quite certain that’s a scandal they’d rather not have within their ranks at the moment. The last thing they need is a Commander’s wife wielding a pen illegally and making life just a little bit easier for women in Gilead,” Serena said.

“I’m sorry they did this to you Serena. I’m not surprised, but I am sorry,” June said. “Where was Fred while all of this happened?”

“Ha!” Serena said with a sneer. “Commander Coward? He was right there with all of them, and he didn’t utter a word of protest when they dragged me out of the chamber. He was there when they cut my finger off—right next to me. In fact, they asked his permission before they did it. I’m not sure if that was done out of some sort of respect for his position or just an effort to make sure Fred’s ass and their own were all covered. I was the example they had all been dying to make.”

“Wait, and Fred gave them permission to lob your finger off?” June said incredulously. “I mean, I knew he was a spineless tool, but that’s really fucking low.”

“I learned a lot today, June. I learned that actions have unforeseen consequences. When I wrote my book, I was genuinely concerned about the plummeting birthrates worldwide. I was concerned that we had all just lost our way, and forgotten how important children are to this world and indeed for any hope of the future. I wanted women to feel like staying at home and raising children was a viable option, and one that should be celebrated, not shamed. When the Movement embraced my ideas and promoted me as one of their key spokespersons, I got drunk on their attention. I let them use me as their mouthpiece, and when I disagreed with the message, they appeased me with small victories that meant nothing. Never in my wildest imaginings did I think that within 8 years of writing that fucking book I would no longer be allowed to have a job, write, read, own property, or speak in public. That my opinion would never be of any consequence again to anyone—because I am a woman, I am no one. Is that my fault? Or was I just swept up in a movement that I thought would put us all on the right path—the moral path—the Godly path.”

“I don’t have any answers for you Serena,” June said. “And I’m not going to get into a philosophical argument with you when your finger has been chopped off and your husband all but wielded the knife that cut it off.”

“Husband? What does that even mean anymore? We assign women to men with no choice involved. Marriage is just for procreation, right? There is no other reason for a man and woman to join together in marriage because romantic love and lust is sinful and forbidden. And because I am not available as an incubator for a child for whatever reason, I’m not allowed to experience sex with my “husband.” We’re just both supposed to not want it anymore, because it’s dirty and sinful unless it’s done under the guise of the “ceremony.” What were we thinking? History tells us the more forbidden we make sex, the more rampant rape, pornography and prostitution become. What did we think would happen when we confined sex solely to the act of reproduction? Did we really think that because we made adultery and pre-marital sex a crime punishable by death that no one would have sex anymore for the sheer joy and relief it provides, or even just to subvert the government’s laws? How the fuck are we supposed to live like that? How the fuck are we supposed to never have comfort in the embrace of another human being. No, we didn’t think that through.”

“Serena, please keep your voice down. You can say anything you want to me, but you can’t let anyone hear you, ok? They’ll hang us both,” June said, walking over behind Serena, placing her hands lightly at her waist. She felt Serena freeze at the contact, and June held her breath, waiting. June was used to waiting, and as the minutes passed, and Serena gradually relaxed, June gently wrapped her arms around Serena and pulled her close to her body.

As June held her with more tenderness than she’d felt in many years, Serena let her guard down—just a little—and took in the comfort and warmth offered by the one woman who had more reason to hate her than anyone else on this planet. June’s arms felt warm and safe and she wanted nothing more than to melt into her handmaid’s embrace. She was so starved of any sort of affection that just this short amount of contact was making her feel light-headed. She was conscious of how long Fred had been gone from the room and when he might likely return with the tea he promised to bring.

They stood silently together for a long time, listening to the sound of each other’s breath and the ticking of the wall clock. June decided to stay here as long as Serena would allow it. _We've come this far already, June thought. If there are any more barriers to be broken down in our tortured relationship, the next move is Serena's._


	2. Tea and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June tries to see Serena, and finds her room heavily guarded and admittance is refused. It's a good thing June doesn't give up that easily.

The next day, June didn’t see Serena, but there was a Guardian posted at her door. When she approached him and requested entry, she was told that Mrs. Waterford was not receiving visitors at this time.

 _This is some sort of sick house arrest that Fred’s cooked up to try to contain the damage,_ June thought. _He wants her isolated from the rest of the house and all of her friends so she can’t continue to organize any resistance._

That evening, June knocked on the door to Fred’s study. Instead of calling out permission to enter as he usually did, Fred came to the door.

“What is it, Offred?”

“Why is Mrs. Waterford under house arrest? There’s a guard at her door and he wouldn’t let me in to see her,” June said.

Fred had a smooth reply ready for her: “How kind of you to think of Mrs. Waterford, Offred. It’s so nice to see that your relationship has improved over time.”

“That’s what Gilead wants, Commander. Wives and Handmaids living in peaceful harmony, bringing new life into the world,” June said with thinly veiled sarcasm. “Yes, yes. That is the goal,” Fred said.

“As for Mrs. Waterford’s well-being, I assure you she is fine. She’s been through a traumatic event, and she needs time to heal. It’s best that she remains in solitude and contemplation for the time being and not be disturbed.”

“Is that what you’re calling having her on house arrest?" June said lowering her voice. “She’s been through something horrible—she’s hurt. Is keeping her isolated from everyone really the answer?” June asked, knowing as she spoke that her words would fall on deaf ears.

“Mrs. Waterford has lost her way and needs to take some time to think seriously about her most recent actions and how she should best expend her energy going forward. I think that some alone time, away from all outside influences, will be good for her.”

“Certainly Commander. You know what’s best,” June said, knowing that to press him would just make him more suspicious than he already was. “Under his eye.”

“Under his Eye,” the Commander replied.

June left his office, her mind rapidly processing dozens of scenarios. It’s one reason she’s managed to stay alive in Gilead—being able to analyze a situation and any possibly outcomes. She learned quickly which offenses would get her hung on the wall or worse--shipped to the Colonies. That said, she regularly pushed the envelope whenever she thought she had a centimeter of room in which to maneuver. _I need more information about what the word on the street is about what happened yesterday, and the best way to get information is from Rita, if she’s inclined to share._

June made her way to the kitchen where she found Rita finishing up the dishes from the evening meal. Rita had made a stew of sorts with a scrawny chicken that June was able to liberate from Loaves and Fishes, along with a few misshaped carrots and a random potato that had seen better days. Stew was the go-to meal when red meat and fish were in short supply at the market. The Commander’s stature had fallen due to recent events, so the best cuts of meat went to Gilead officers who were higher in rank than Commander Waterford.

“Can I help you with the dishes, Rita?” June asked.

“Nope, I’ve got it covered, thanks,” Rita said brusquely, her eyes cutting quickly to just behind June where a Guardian stood silently lurking, listening to every word spoken in the Waterford house.

“Actually, would you mind making Mrs. Waterford tea and maybe some toast? She hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning,” Rita said.

Grateful for an excuse to check in on Serena, June put the kettle on the stove to boil, filled the tea pot with hot water from the sink, and then wrapped it in a tea towel. She prepared the tray with sliced lemon, sugar and a small pitcher of milk. When the kettle started to boil, she emptied the tea pot of the hot water, measured a teaspoon of black tea into the pot, poured the boiling water on top, and wrapped it again in a tea towel while it steeped. June then put two slices of Rita’s fresh bread into the toaster, buttering the toast pieces as soon as they popped up, and placed them on a china plate onto the tray. Rita came up behind her with a small bowl of fresh orange sections and added it to the tray. _Rita must be pretty damned nervous if she’s volunteering oranges_ , June thought. She removed the towel from the tea pot and made sure the items on the tray were properly balanced for her trip up to Mrs. Waterford’s room.

At Mrs. Waterford’s door, June noticed different Guardian on watch than the last time she tried to gain entry. _I’ll see if I can’t charm my way into Serena’s room somehow,_ June thought.

“Blessed be the fruit,” June said.

“May the Lord open,” the Guardian replied.

“I’d like to take this into Mrs. Waterford. She isn’t feeling well and the Commander wanted me to sit with her and make sure she eats all of this,” June said. “She hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

“All right,” the Guardian said as he reached over, turned the door knob and opened the door wide enough for June and her tray to enter. He closed the door behind June, giving the women some privacy. _That was too easy,_ June thought. _We’ll need to be very careful. Serena’s being watched like a hawk. We all are._

Serena was sitting to the right side of the window seat. June placed the tray down on a small table placed conveniently near where the Commander’s wife was seated. Serena continued to look out the window, while June fixed her tea the way she knew she liked it. Serena accepted the tea and took a sip.

“Thank you, June. It was kind of you to think of me. It seems no one else here has.”

“I tried to check on you earlier today,” June said, “and the guard at the door said you weren’t accepting visitors. I knew that was a lie, and of course, me being me, I had to figure out a way to see you.”

“Why is that June? Why did you need to see me?” Serena asked refusing the plate of toast June offered to her.

June paused for a moment to consider Serena’s question. The truth was, she wasn’t sure why it was important for her to check on Serena—just that it was important. Living in Gilead, June had learned not to examine her motives too closely—she was just doing whatever it was she had to do in order to survive another day—no matter how morally questionable or wrong. The moral code she lived by before Gilead didn't apply any longer.

“June—answer me,” Serena said, her voice weary and impatient.

“Can’t you just accept a bit of kindness for what it is?” June said.

“Because June, with you, there is never anything that’s given freely without strings. You are always working an angle with me. Using whatever perceived weakness of mine you spot and playing it to your advantage,” Serena said angrily, but with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“That’s probably a fair assumption, Serena,” June admitted. “And when I do work an angle, it’s usually something to do with one of my children—their safety and well-being.”

Serena said nothing and took another sip of tea. June sat on the other side of the window bench. “How is your hand?”

“It fucking hurts. It throbs and burns, and pounds with outrage. And I’m grateful because it gives me something to focus on other than the spineless cruelty of the man I’m married to,” Serena said.

“Let me see, please,” June asked as she gently brought Serena’s injured hand closer to her and placed it in her lap. She slowly unwrapped it, being careful not to pull on the skin, and saw that the wound was indeed red, swollen and, like Serena, angry. “Let me get some antibiotic cream for this and re-wrap it. It looks like it’s infected.”

“What’s the point, June? Why do you care?” Serena asked.

In response, June brought Serena’s hand up to her lips and gently placed a kiss on the palm of her hand. “Because what you did yesterday was brave. It’s one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen anyone do. You stood up for every girl in Gilead, regardless of what it cost you—and your sacrifice was your finger.” Still holding Serena’s hand, she gently placed it onto Serena’s lap and said, “Let me go find something to take care of this. And eat your damned toast.”

June walked into Serena’s bathroom and found the first aid supplies in a cabinet. Choosing a loose bandage, antibiotic cream, and gauze, June returned and found Serena looking down at her maimed hand with tears rolling silently down her face. June took Serena’s injured hand and placed in in her own lap while she covered the severed finger with antibacterial cream, then with a thin piece of gauze to protect the wound from sticking to the tape, and wrapped the hand with more care and concern than anyone had shown Serena in a very long time. When the dressing was finished, June placed another kiss on the back of Serena’s hand, and let it go.

“Please—don’t…” Serena said, stopping herself in time before she humiliated herself yet again in front of June. June moved closer to Serena on the window seat and carefully wiped the tears from her face with a clean cloth. Taking Serena’s injured hand again, she kissed it, and still holding it gently, placed it on top of her lap and held it there.

The women sat together quietly for several long minutes, June astonished at her need to comfort Serena. And she was even more surprised that the cool, seemingly impenetrable Serena allowed it. _The captive taking care of the captor—I’m sure that Freud would have a lot to say about that. Maybe I’ll ask Serena about that sometime—but maybe not right now._

“I would do it again, June,” Serena said suddenly.

June looked at Serena and smiled. “I say things like that too when I push the envelope and get myself tased with Aunt Lydia’s cattle prod, or have to endure some sort of newly creative and horrible punishment dreamt up by the psychos who run this asylum. Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum.”

Serena smiled and let out a soft chuckle. “I haven’t heard that since high school Latin class. But it’s very appropriate for where we are now.”

“They’re grinding us both down, Serena. Neither of us are here of our own free will, and neither is free to leave. These past few weeks—helping you write the Commander’s briefs and being treated like the intelligent, thinking woman that I am, have been amazing. And you gave me that. You looked at me and saw me as a woman with a brain—someone to share ideas, have intelligent conversations and debate with. You saw me as an equal who could take your words and make them more clear and powerful. You made me feel alive again, Serena. Like a human being with a purpose.”

“Until they cut my finger off to make me an example to any woman of my rank who decides to speak up and be heard…so much for a purpose,” Serena said.

“You scared the shit out of those dickheads, Serena! They are terrified of you, and the power of your words to incite revolution. You’ve done it before—your words, your opinions, your doctrine--helped overthrow a government and created Gilead. How frightened they must all be that the strongest woman in Gilead has found her voice again. No wonder they’ve got you under house arrest.”

“I want you to understand something, June. I never, ever meant for my ideas, my book, my speeches, to create this bastardization of what Gilead could have been and should have been. I should have learned the lesson from Marx. On paper, Communism is Utopia and Xanadu all wrapped into one. But in practice, it’s created some of the most vicious regimes in history. And Gilead is following suit.”

Serena rose from her seat and paced the length of the room as she continued to speak. “I am sick to death at what Gilead has become. To take the joy of reading away from every woman in our world? To deny women the right to an education, to express ideas and debate--and leave that only to the likes of men? Men and women were created by God to balance each other out. The nurturing, maternal, peaceful, home-making woman is a counter to the aggressive, insular, war-mongering man. Now, that only the voices and ideas of men are allowed to be expressed, we’ve lost the natural balance that God created. We’ve lost our way and I don’t think we’ll ever be able to find it again.”

“On that we can agree, Serena, June said. "Would you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Why hold back now, June? We’ve come this far.”

“What’s holding you here, Serena? Why are you staying in Gilead? Nicole is in Canada—isn’t that where you want to be?”

“With all of my heart and soul, I want to be with her. You know that. It took every ounce of strength to allow you to get her out of this hellcious place,” Serena said, her eyes misting with tears.

“Then what’s keeping you?” June asked. “You’re resourceful—you have means. I’m sure you could arrange an escape. Why not put Gilead behind you and go be with your daughter.”

“That’s a lovely fairy tale, June, but outside of Gilead, Nichole would never be recognized as my daughter. She’s only mine here. Out there, she’ll always be yours—yours and Nick’s,” Serena said.

“What if there’s another way, Serena? What if there’s a way to get out of Gilead and have some kind of life with Nichole in Canada or somewhere else safe away from here,” June said, trying to keep her excitement contained.

“What’s your idea, Sherlock?” Serena said sarcastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read the story and left comments/kudos. I love these two and I cannot get them out of my head.


	3. How is this going to work?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the plan, Sherlock? June tries to bargain with Serena to gain her cooperation.

“We get out of here” June said. “You, me and Hannah. We put our heads together and we plan out every single step of our escape. We strategically and methodically plan, carefully consider, and imagine any and all possible pitfalls and road blocks that might get us put up on the wall. And when the time is right, we run for Canada, and we don’t look back—ever.”

“Then what June? We’re in Canada, and you have legal custody of both of your daughters, and I’m nothing to Nichole. What’s the plan June—are you going to try to pass me off as Nichole’s nanny?”

June smirked at the thought. “Well, as much as you deserve to be my servant for the rest of your life, I hadn’t considered that option—but it does sound kind of appealing.”

“Seriously, June, quit wasting my time. You’re living in some sort of fantasy world where you and I are super heroes, taking on the patriarchy, escaping under the cover of night with all sorts of complicated subterfuge, and landing in Canada, with nothing but the clothes on our backs and two children we’ll need to support. What’s your vision? Will we suddenly become BFFs, and our “complicated relationship”, as you call it, just falls nicely into place without having to deal with any deeply rooted emotionally traumatic issues that demand resolution? Or do you think that Refugee Services in Canada will offer couples counseling for Commander’s Wives who escape with their Handmaids and decide to set up housekeeping together? What would you have to allow—what would we have to do—to make it ok for you to let me—let us--raise our daughter together?”

“Serena, I haven’t thought it all the way through, but…” June started, but Serena was on a roll and had tapped into her inner preacher and would not be stopped.

"What will our everyday lives look like, June?” Serena continued. “Are we going to join a bowling league and go out for beer and pizza with people who cannot possibly know what we’ve been through and pretend to be normal? Or maybe going out and being social will be too hard, so we’ll stay home and watch movies on the couch and drink wine while the kids are sleeping upstairs? Will we stand in a cramped kitchen, making lunches for the girls and coordinate drop off and pick up with our busy schedules, because of course, we’ll need to work. And of course, we’ll need to make a schedule for chores—who’s cooking dinner on Tuesday and who’s turn is it to take out the trash? How very modern and mundane. Everything that Gilead is not.”

“Honestly, Serena, that sounds a hell of a lot better than what we’ve got going on here.”

“You’re ridiculous, June!” Serena said, trying to keep her voice measured and low and doing her best to contain her anger. _June just wants to get out—she’ll say anything to me to make me help her, no matter how many empty promises she has to make that she fully intends to break._ “Until a couple of weeks ago, your go-to get-off fantasy was stabbing me in the neck and watching my blood pool onto your handmaid’s outfit. Rita would bitch about getting those stains out, or she might just give you a high five and a ‘you go, girl’!” Serena stopped her tirade, long enough to calm her breathing and figure out a way to make this ridiculous conversation end. _She can’t really hate me so much that she’s dangling a hair-brained escape scheme in front of me with my daughter as bait?_

Serena continued, her voice calmer. “Our newly-found, cooperative relationship is more of a détente of sorts. Two adversaries working together to create and execute a mutually beneficial plan. We put our grievances against each other on hold while we see how we can use each other to achieve our mutual goals. And I can respect that. But there is something missing June. You are so fucking desperate to get out of Gilead that you will say anything to get me to help you. Anything! I’m not shocked that Nichole is your preferred bait—it’s really the only thing that might actually make me take part in this. But there’s a problem. I don’t believe you, June. You’re telling me that over the past few weeks, you’ve done an emotional 180, and now you and I can work together side by side to get out of here and figure out how to co-exist peacefully and raise Nichole together. That sounds crazy, June! Why should I believe you? You’ll literally say whatever it is you think I need to hear to make this dream a reality. And I’m not saying that that you’re wrong to do that—you’re looking out for your kids. I get it! But knowing this about you, how can I know that you won’t keep Nichole from me?” Serena’s anger had burnt itself out and she was left exhausted, wanting nothing more for June to leave her in peace and forget this ridiculous conversation. _She knows how to play me—catch me at my most vulnerable and promise me the moon, the stars, Nichole and—her. I can almost admire her tenacity and cleverness, if it didn’t cut me to the quick._

“You and I--we have been through quite a lot,” June admitted. “One moment, you think I’m your mortal enemy, competing with you for the love and affections of your husband. Next, you’re both engaging in and cooperatively raping me in a state-sanctioned ceremony once a month. You loathe me and pity me, but somewhere in all of this, you started to see me as a person—not just an incubator for your baby. You made me your co-conspirator, creating documents that made life in Gilead just a little more bearable. And since this happened,” June said, as she gently ran her fingers over Serena’s injured hand, “I see you too—as a real person with real feelings, and not just a monster who’s only purpose in life is to make me miserable and cause me endless pain. In fact, Serena, I see you as a brilliant woman with a magnetic personality who’s had her hands bound and her mouth taped in Gilead. The society you thought you were helping to create became your prison—not your refuge. I was hunted down, captured without my consent and enslaved with no rights. You came here willingly and were led into a gilded cage which promptly slammed shut and then had your vocal cords cut. I have compassion for you, Serena. I care about you. I worry about you.” _And…I wonder what you’re thinking and feeling. God, Serena, I think about you all the time_ ,” June admitted to herself.

June walked over to Serena and placed her hands-on Serena’s hips. The unexpected contact sent a wave of heat straight through their bodies, confusing them both momentarily.

Collecting herself, Serena said “That’s lovely June and if I believed half of it, I think I would be fairly swooning. How does your little fantasy translate into sharing Nichole with me—not for a day, or a month, or a year—but forever.”

“Serena,” June said softly, “if you help me—if you help us get out of Gilead, with Hannah—I swear on Hannah and Nichole’s lives that you will always have a place in Nichole’s life. You love her with the ferocity that only a mother can. You put her safety and well-being before your own. I see that clearly, and I have nothing but respect for you Serena. You could have had me strung up on the wall for taking Nichole out of here—but you didn’t. You covered for me. You bought me enough time to get her out, regardless of what it cost you. And when I came back you saved my life by not turning me in.” June pulled Serena in and held her tightly, wanting desperately to prove her gratitude and somehow convince her that she could be trusted.

Serena’s body tensed as June pulled her in for a hug that lasted way past the point of awkwardness. It had been so long since anyone had held her, she didn’t know how to respond. She tried to pull away gently, but June wouldn’t let her go. Defeated, her body betrayed her and sank into the warmth and comfort of June’s embrace. She closed her eyes and pulled June’s head close against her chest, feeling safer than she’d felt in a very long time.

With the clock ticking and not knowing when someone might come bursting through the bedroom door, they both knew they had to come to some sort of an understanding before June left for the night.

Pulling away from each other, Serena lifted June’s head to meet her gaze. “We don’t have a lot of time, and we need to figure this out, June. You’ve given me a lot to consider, and I promise you that I will give this scheme of yours further thought. But I need to ask you something and I need you to tell me the truth. Can you do that, or does your extra-ordinary survival instinct compel you to hide your true motivations from me at all times?”

“Yes, Serena—ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth. I’m smart enough to know when the truth will serve me more than a lie,” June said honestly.

“Your plan is that I help you get out of Gilead with Hannah. I’m asking you if you can make me this promise and keep it in good faith: If we make it out of Gilead, then you, Nichole and Hanna will share your lives with me—in whatever capacity we can agree on. Can I trust you to keep that promise, June? Because I want to believe you—I really do. You have no idea how much. But I just don’t know if I can trust you.”

June’s blue eyes shone with just the smallest pinpoint of hope buried deep in their blue depths. “Serena, don’t you realize that you already trust me? You have trusted me for a long time. You trusted me to carry your child for nine months and deliver her safely. And I did, against almost insurmountable odds. I did that for Nichole, for me, and for you. You trusted me to get Nichole out of Gilead safely. And you trusted me to be your wingman in committing high treason in Fred’s study. You do trust me, Serena. And I trust you. I came back to Gilead—I could have left with Nichole—that was the plan. But I had to come back, Serena. I couldn’t leave Hannah behind in Gilead. And…if I’m really honest, I didn’t want to leave you alone to clean up my mess. I didn’t want you killed for what I did.” 

June led Serena over to the side of the bed where they sat facing each other. “Serena, I know who you are now. And who you are is not the same person I met when I was assigned to your house. I know that you are complex as hell and that I’ll never make the mistake of underestimating you. I have a great deal of respect for you, your intelligence, your survival skills, your charisma, your incredible strength. You are a force of nature, Serena. And so am I. We both realized pretty early on that we are each other’s equals--maybe not here, but if we were anywhere else than Gilead we would be. And I trust you Serena. I trust you with Nichole, and I trust you with me. I know I’m asking you to give up everything and risk your life for a future you can’t imagine. But I trust you to do what’s right for us. If we get through this together—if we get free—you will always have a place in Nichole’s life. And mine. And Hannah’s. You have my word.” June leaned in and took Serena’s face into her hands and pulled her close, so that their foreheads were touching, and they could feel each other’s breath cool against their warm skin.

“I’m scared, June.” Serena whispered. “And I don’t scare easily. All this soul searching, hugging and tenderness is about to break me in two. It’s been so long since I’ve let anyone near me. I’m terrified. And I’m so fucking vulnerable, I’m afraid I’m going to agree to do this for you just so…just so that I don’t have to lose you too. And that sounds ridiculous because I don’t even know how I really feel about you—I just know I feel better when I’m around you.”

“Just because it feels good, doesn’t make it a sin, Serena. Somehow, you and I have learned to care for and find comfort in each other here. Maybe that’s just going to be a Gilead thing. Who the fuck knows? But the bond that we’ve forged here is one that will be there for us wherever we are. We can do this—I know we can. We are both relentless and cunning and smart. If anyone can pull this off, it’s us.”

“When you say it like that, you make me believe that the odds are stacked in our favor, when I know that they most certainly are not.”

“So, you’ll do it?” June asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! I'm seriously loving this pair, and they've managed to pound my ridiculous years-long writer's block into submission -- Yay!!!! Please comment if you care to--I would love to hear from you ;)


	4. Better than Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena gives June her decision, as well as a lot to think about.
> 
> Currently listening to: 
> 
> Ice Cream by Sarah McLachlan
> 
> Your love  
> Is better than ice cream  
> Better than anything else that I've tried  
> And your love  
> Is better than ice cream  
> Everyone here knows how to fight  
> And it's a long way down  
> It's a long way down  
> It's a long way  
> Down to the place where we started from  
> Your love  
> Is better than chocolate  
> Better than anything else that I've tried  
> Oh, love is better than chocolate  
> Everyone here knows how to cry  
> It's a long way down  
> It's a long way down  
> It's a long way  
> Down to the place where we started from

“God help me, but yes I’m in,” Serena said. And before she allowed herself to overthink her next step, she closed her eyes, leaned over and captured June’s lips in a kiss that she’d been waiting for her whole life. As she felt the softness of June’s lips against hers, she pressed her tongue between June’s lips, begging for permission to enter. Without hesitation, June’s lips parted and their tongues met and stroked the inside of each other’s mouths like practiced lovers. Their kisses were a balm for their broken hearts, bathing each other in longing and hope. Serena took June’s face into her hands and deepened the kiss, causing her heart to pound so loudly she was certain June could hear it, even over the moans they were both trying to suppress but couldn’t quite manage to.

Pulling herself away from that kiss was one of the most challenging acts of self-denial Serena had managed in a long time. In general, her flesh was fairly weak. However, in considering whether they should continue along the path of their current trajectory, she weighed the militaristic atmosphere of her household, Fred’s level of rage, and the Guardian with the assault rifle 20 feet away. So, Serena’s sense of self-preservation kicked in. 

“God help me, but yes. I’m in. Now get out of here before we get caught,” Serena whispered. “June, what’s wrong?”

“Ummm…I wasn’t expecting that. Like, not at all. I didn’t think you had it in you, Mrs. Waterford.”

“Oh, so I managed to surprise you? You who are always three steps ahead of everyone else? Say it isn’t so, June!” Serena teased. 

“The kiss was not really that surprising. I’m no psych major, but it has been an emotional couple of days, a rough couple of years, actually, and we literally have no outlet for any feelings—especially not sexual ones. But how I felt when you kissed me? Well, now that was a fucking surprise.”

Serena pulled June back into her arms and whispered in her ear, “Was it a good fucking surprise, June?”

“Jesus Christ, Serena, don’t say ‘fucking’ like that to me! You literally just soaked my completely un-sexy, Gilead-issued, standard Handmaid underwear. How the fuck did you do that?”

“I guess I’m just that talented,” Serena whispered, as her hand dove under June’s dress and sought the heat and the wetness that she knew was waiting for her. As her hand maneuvered past the waistband of June’s drenched underwear, she hovered just over her target, feeling the heat emanating straight from June’s center. “You didn’t answer me, June. Was it a good fucking surprise?” 

“Yes…it was a very good fucking surprise. Like the best surprise ever,” June said, her heart still racing from that amazing, soul-sucking kiss and the hand still that hovered oh-so-closely to her very needy and very wet pussy. 

“Good,” Serena purred as her hand dove into June’s nest of curls, completely drenched with June’s arousal. “One good surprise deserves another, I always say,” Serena continued, sliding two, then three fingers inside her, her thumb working her clit with a coordination and expertise that truly shocked June.

“Oh my God Serena, you’ve done this before—like a lot. I’m not going to last more than 30 seconds like this,” June stammered, unable to focus on words.

“That’s helpful, because that’s about all the time we have before the assholes with the guns and the power come in and try to steal this from us too,” Serena said, her arm relentlessly pounding into June, driving her to the peak of ecstasy as fast as humanly possible. 

The fear of discovery worked wonders on June, as she clung to Serena whispering “so close…so fucking close….just do that, yes—don’t stop—oh my god I….” June’s words died off as her orgasm washed over her. Serena continued stroking and drawing out those precious moments of release as long as possible, staying inside June until the spasms died down.

“I’m going to come out now, June, ok?” Serena said as she removed her fingers from inside June and brought them straight to her own mouth, licking and sucking them to make sure she tasted every incredible drop. “Oh my God, you taste fucking amazing—better than ice cream!”

“Mmmmm…my girlfriend has a way with words, and clearly she’s a fan of Sarah McLachlan. But she doesn’t know how to share,” June said, as she pulled Serena’s hand out of her mouth and replaced it with her tongue, kissing her deeply so she could taste herself in her lover’s mouth.

“Well maybe we can work on that sharing thing,” Serena said. “And as delightful as that brief interlude was, I have to call time. You have to go. Now June, and I mean it,” Serena said.

“Fine,” June said, pouting slightly as she stood and smoothed her dress down. “I know what you’re going to be doing as soon as I close the door behind me,” June said smirking.

“That’s right June. I’m going to take the hand that fucked you and made you come really hard, and fuck myself with it while I think about you eating me out.”

“Fuck, Serena, you can’t talk like that and not expect me to get wound up. That’s how all this started!”

Serena sighed, and stood up with June, running her fingers under her nose. “I’m not going to wash this hand anytime soon—I want to smell you on me all night long.”

“Not fair! Not fucking fair!” June said pretending to be outraged. “You didn’t tell me you were a sex-goddess-demon-angel-thing.”

“There’s a lot we have to learn about each other,” Serena said smiling, her eyes sparkling for the first time in a long time.

“Now, lest we be distracted from our mission,” Serena said, “your homework is to figure out how we might be able to get help from the Martha network to get us out of here. But be careful. I don’t want you to breathe a word of to anyone yet. It’s just you and me for now. I’ll do some research on my end—which escapes have been most successful, and which routes failed. Then we can start mapping it out.”

As the two women walked to Serena’s door, June said in a louder, clear voice, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mrs. Waterford. Sleep well, and blessed be the fruit.”

“I hope you sleep well also,” she said, depositing a chaste kiss on June’s cheek. “May the Lord open.”

The door clicked behind June, and Serena returned to her seat by the window. She had a lot to think about.


	5. Where's Mrs. Waterford?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ofglen and Offred take the long way home from the market and are met with a frightening and unusual sight.

As a Handmaid, June had an incredible amount of time in her day with literally nothing to do. No reading, no television, no music, no writing, no newspapers, no cell phones, no internet, no Peloton, no shopping for clothes, (what was the fucking point), no driving. Except of course for the scheduled monthly rape—that was not negotiable, although occasionally, Serena was able to beg off with a headache, or some sort of excuse, but that was a risky proposition. The Eyes were everywhere, and if a Commander’s household was not observing the rules of the Ceremony, the consequences for the entire household were grave. Re-populating Gilead was serious business. Being entrusted with a Handmaid, one of the precious few fertile women capable of delivering a child to the cause—that was nothing to be trifled with. The Aunts and the Eyes worked closely together. That’s why Aunt Lydia would pop up the minute she suspected any sort of irregularity or oddness in a Handmaid’s behavior, or within the household to which she belonged. If two Handmaids were spotted talking in the food market together, however briefly, Aunt Lydia knew about it—and no infraction, no matter how minor, was ever overlooked.

Aunt Lydia believed that swift punishment, preferably in front of the entire flock of her Handmaids, was the best deterrent. Like when the Handmaids assembled for a ‘Particicution’. As a handmaid, you didn’t want to do anything to end up the focus of attention. You wanted to stay in the middle of the pack of Handmaids to bring less attention to yourself and blend in. Blending in and keeping to the middle made it easier to converse and pass information, as long as you didn’t forget why you were there in the first place. You didn’t want to end up in the back of the pack, because then the Aunts might think that you’re not participatory. And participation was mandatory—you had to make sure you punched, kicked, spit on, choked, or otherwise hurt the individual that had been sentenced to this particularly brutal execution--lest you call attention to yourself. If you could manage to get in a few good licks and get a little blood splattered on you, that was best—but not too much, because then Aunt Lydia would look at you a little too closely and with too much concern. You mustn’t like the violence “too” much. That might make the Aunts worry that your violent tendencies are exceeding what falls in the range of ‘normal’ for a Handmaid, and that you are in danger of getting out of hand. The whole purpose of ‘particicution’ was to give Handmaids an outlet for their inner rage. The theory was that Handmaids could work out some of their “issues” and help get rid of rapists, pedophiles, and other assorted traitors at the same time.

For the most part, June was able to look like the prototype for the perfect Gilead Handmaid. Obedient, silent, pious, and, unexceptional. But she was none of those things. She was acting a part--the role of her life. And the better she could play the part, the longer she got to live. And she had to keep herself alive if there was a sliver of a chance of getting her daughter back and getting the hell out of Gilead. June used her hours of unstructured time to plan her next moves. When was the next opportunity for the Handmaids to gather? Where else can she get information? Handmaids had much less freedom than some of the other factions of society, like Commanders, Wives, Guardians and Marthas. It was important to try to obtain information without giving away why she wanted it. June knew she had to be super careful. After Serena’s orchestrated protest and subsequent public humiliation and punishment, the Eyes were on the entire household, looking for any reason to clean house at the Waterfords and string them all up on the wall. An ambitious Commander could have done it quite easily. It was only because Fred was so well liked by his peers that they were spared. Serena was revered in a way, for being the original spokesperson and recruiter for Gilead—until Fred took that from her too.

Two days after June’s last encounter with Serena, she was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast while Rita was talking with her about the day’s shopping.

“Now, don’t take no for an answer about the steak—and don’t get any of those lean cuts that I can’t get any flavor out of,” Rita instructed. “And make sure to get some sugar—I know it’s hard, but the Commander still has clout, so let’s get some while we can. I’d like to make something special for Mrs. Waterford and smuggle it up to her room. She’s barely eating and I’m not certain how long she’s going to be locked in her room.”

“Not to worry, Rita,” Commander Waterford said, smiling, as he breezed into the kitchen. “I know it’s been hard on all of us, having to deal with the increased number of guards, and Mrs. Waterford being indisposed, but I believe her situation is resolved now.”

“Praise be,” said Rita and June in unison. “Yes, praise be indeed,” replied the Commander as he left the house to go to his office for the day.

“I better get going too, Rita,” June said. “Ofglen will be waiting for me.” June gathered her cloak and gloves, along with the small stack of tokens that Rita provided which served as her shopping list. The tokens had small pictures of the items they represented, because of course, women were not allowed to read or write—not even a simple shopping list. June draped her cloak over her gown, donned her “wings” and her long red gloves, then headed for the gate where Ofglen was waiting for her.

“Blessed be the fruit,” Ofglen said. “May the Lord Open,” replied June, as the two women departed, walking side by side, virtually in sync. They both kept their heads down, as was required, and their hands hidden inside the folds of their cloaks.

“Every move you make is being watched,” Ofglen warned, keeping her voice as low as possible. “It’s best that we not try to communicate anything of importance –at least until things calm down.”

“Under his eye,” was all that June said as the two women walked to the market and conducted their shopping quietly. June tried to speak with a few of the Handmaids, and each of them nodded their head sadly and walked away from her without a word. _Jesus, this is really bad. I can’t get anyone to talk to me at all, and I can’t find out about the fall-out from Serena’s act of rebellion. I guess Serena was right. The Handmaids are not going to be any help to us because they are too tightly controlled._

Ofglen met up with June and they both headed to the check-out line. As they exited, Ofglen suggested that they take the long way back, and June of course, agreed. As they women walked in silence and approached the walkway along the waterfront where ‘the wall” was located, they stopped in front and saw five hanging bodies. June had to swallow the bile that was building in her throat, along with the fear, as she saw that along with two Guardians and two Marthas, one of the bodies was a Commander’s wife. June scanned the details of the woman hanging in front of her, trying to identify who she was. There was little to go on. Her head was covered by a bloodied white hood, and her limbs hung limply from her body. The woman was tall, and the cut of her blue cloak and gown were very stylish, as were her shoes--and she was missing her left pinky. _My God what if—no, he wouldn’t dare—what if that’s Serena!_ June’s brain screamed silently in terror while her head swam.

“Let’s head back home now Offred. We’ve seen enough for today,” Ofglen said loudly, taking her friend’s elbow and steering her away from the gruesome sight.

“Keep your head down, walk straight, and keep breathing,” Ofglen whispered to June, discreetly holding her elbow to make sure she stayed upright. “You don’t know for sure it’s her, so don’t imagine the worst.”

“Who else could it be? Have any other Commanders’ Wives staged a rebellion and read the Bible in public?” June said as quietly as she could.

“Wives do lots of bad things,” Ofglen said. “They stop being servile, they stand up for themselves, they fuck someone, they let themselves get fucked, they read a damned magazine, write in a journal, refuse to participate in the Ceremony one too many times. She’s not the only target, so stay calm until you find out if she’s alive.”

June struggled to maintain her composure—the Eyes were literally on her right now, and any reaction would be noted, reported and dealt with if it was anything other than proper Handmaid behavior. Holding back tears of anger and rage, she focused on breathing in and out, slow and steady. Mindfulness--staying exactly in the moment--was the only way she’d ever managed to get through some of the horrific things Gilead had put her through. _No matter what, don’t think about what’s going to happen. Just put one foot in front of the other. Rita would have said if the black van came for Serena last night. The Guardians are not subtle—they like to parade their captures, tortures and killings to deter the rest of us from stepping out of line. It can’t be Serena!_ She held back the scream that was lodged in her throat, and walked as fast as she could without calling attention to herself.

As they neared the Waterford mansion, Ofglen squeezed June’s elbow and said, “No matter what, it’ll be ok.”

“Under his eye,” June replied as she went through the gate and closed it behind her. The house looked exactly as she left it. Nothing indicated that the castle had been stormed and its queen captured. She wished Nick was still working there, washing the Commander’s car in the driveway. He would tell her what had happened to Serena—if anything had happened to her. He would protect her. Nick always had a soft spot for June, and generally looked out for her and tried to keep her alive. And he knew everything.

June entered through the kitchen door, her breath ragged as she pulled her wings off her head and dropped them onto the butcher block table, along with the groceries she’d purchased.

“Rita, where’s Mrs. Waterford?” June asked quietly, trying not to seem alarmed.

“As far as I know, she’s still in her room,” Rita replied.

“When was the last time you saw her?” June asked, trying to mask the fear in her voice. Rita looked up from her chopping board and saw the fear in June’s eyes.

“I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning when I went into her room to change her sheets. Why are you asking?”

June held onto the table with both arms bracing her, afraid she was going to faint.

“Sit the hell down before you faint, and please tell me what has you so spooked!” Rita ordered as she slid a stool next to the Handmaid and brought her a glass of water. June thanked her and drained the glass before speaking.

“We took the long way home today, after shopping. We went past the ‘wall’. There were five people hanging —one of them was a Commander’s wife—and she hadn’t been there longer than a day, because we went that way yesterday and there was no one there,” June said.

“Oh, honey, you scared the shit out of me!” Rita said, letting out a sigh of relief. “I thought something awful had happened.”

“Rita for Christ sakes! What if it’s Mrs. Waterford?” June said angrily.

“It can’t be—she’s too much of a Gilead poster child. Commander Waterford doesn’t have the balls,” Rita said, walking towards the hallway to make sure there were no Guardians within hearing range.

“But Rita, the wife—the one hanging—she was missing her left pinky! It has to be Serena!”

Rita’s eyebrow arched as she looked at June with a new perspective. “Oh, it’s Serena now, is it? You two have gotten awfully chummy lately. Nothing more fucked up than the relationship between a wife and a Handmaid, and that’s the truth.”

“Rita, it’s not like that—I mean, yeah well, it’s fucked up, but she’s changed—I swear.”

“The hell she has! That woman has back-handed me more times than I can count. I lost three teeth the first year I was here. She’s the devil, and if she’s hanging on the wall, I’m going to have a real hard time being upset about it,” Rita said, walking over to the cabinet and reaching for the bottle of whiskey that was hidden on the top shelf. She grabbed two glasses and poured them each two fingers.

“Whatever, Rita. Look, I know she’s a monster. She’s almost choked me to death, beat the shit out of me, took my baby away from me, and holds me down every month while her husband rapes me. But what happened to her last week—I think it changed her,” June said as she downed half of her drink, the alcohol burning her throat and warming her chest.

“Do you hear yourself June? Snap out of it! We don’t even know it’s her yet, and you’re already putting your Handmaid mourning outfit on. And not for nothing, but nine out of every ten Commanders’ wives are missing at least one digit—it’s like a rite of passage for those bitches. Now, take this tray up to Mrs. Waterford’s room,” Rita said as she lifted the tea pot lid and added a generous shot of whiskey. “I made soup, which she generally likes, because there are hardly any fucking calories in it, and who doesn’t like tea and whiskey? If she’s alive, she can enjoy it and you can relax, safe in the knowledge that your precious Serena is alive and well and ready to torture us for the rest of our lives. If she’s not, I suggest you slug down this tea and take a nap. You’re good at that.”

 _Rita’s right. I’m being a fucking idiot, mooning over Serena like this. I don’t even know if it was her. I need to just find out for myself if she’s dead or alive. If’s she’s alive, great. The escape plan’s still on. If she’s dead, I need to find another ally to help me get me and Hannah out of here. I can’t let myself get blinded by emotions_.

“Geez Rita, you’re so dark, sometimes,” June said, as she finished her drink and grabbed the tray.

“Yeah, eight years of Gilead enslavement makes this mathematics professor from Tufts University really fucking dark,” Rita said, going back to her chopping.

“Rita, I….,” June started, and was immediately cut off.

“Forget you heard me say that, June—I mean, Offred—seriously. Slip of the tongue. I’m so grateful to lead a purposeful life in Gilead, serving this fine Commander’s house—praise be! Now get upstairs and find out if the ice queen lives, or if we’ll be getting new model,” Rita said.

June exited the kitchen and headed up the back staircase to the second floor where Serena’s bedroom was, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely think. She was worried sick about what she might find or not find. _Breathe June, just breathe! No matter what, it’s going to be ok._


	6. You really do care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June steels herself to go upstairs and find out if Mrs. Waterford is anywhere to be found.

As she reached the landing and headed down the hallway to Serena’s room, she was startled to see that there was no guard posted. The door was closed, so she knocked and waited a moment. Hearing nothing, she opened the door and called out, “Mrs. Waterford? I brought you some tea.” She saw no sign of Serena, and also no signs of struggle. Placing the tray down on the table, she quickly closed the door to the room. She immediately went to Serena’s wardrobe, and saw that none of her clothing had been disturbed and the cloak she normally wore was where it should be—as were her gloves. So that meant she probably wasn’t gone--or that Guardians dragged her out of the house and didn’t let her bring her coat. The next logical place to check was the bathroom. The door was closed, so she knocked and whispered, “Serena—are you in there? It’s me, June! Serena?” Hearing no response, she steeled herself to open the door, not knowing what to expect.

She took a deep breath, turned the knob and…

“Boo!” Serena whispered loudly right next to June’s ear. June screamed and whirled around to face Serena, who in a rare moment of mirth, was actually laughing.

“Serena, that’s not funny!”

“Yes it is!” Serena said, still giggling. “I couldn’t help myself! I was just upstairs looking for you, and I came back down and saw you creeping around down here. Wait, you’re really upset! What’s wrong, June?"

June took a deep breath to steady herself and said, “I think you might want to sit down for this. Oh, and you should drink this tea—it’s half whiskey, and you’re going to need it.”

“Don’t coddle me, June. Just tell me what happened. It can’t be that bad.”

“All right, fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” June said. “On my way back from the market, Ofglen and I took the long way home and we saw a Commander’s wife swinging on the wall. I freaked out, and raced home to check on you. And then I asked Rita if she’d seen you and she said not since yesterday, and then I remembered Fred saying some cryptic shit about you this morning, and the bitch on the wall was missing a pinky, and, just…oh fuck, you don’t look so good, ” June said as she grabbed Serena and led her to the chair. “You are white as a ghost—sit down and take a few breaths.” June quickly poured Serena a cup of whiskey laced tea and placed it beside her. June kneeled on the floor and took Serena’s hands and sat quietly, giving Serena time to process what had just happened.

After a few moments, and a healthy gulp or two of the “tea”, Serena asked, “do you have any idea who she was?”

“No,” June replied. “I was pretty convinced she was you. She was about your height and build. Her clothes were like yours—blue of course, but stylish—not like the clothes most of the Commanders’ wives wear. And her shoes look a lot like one of your dressier pairs. And then I saw she was missing her left pinky, just like you, and my mind just went there and I thought it was you,” June said, her voice breaking as she buried her face in Serena’s lap and cried the tears she had been holding back since the moment she saw that flash of blue cloth on the wall.

“Shhhhhhhh, it’s all right,” Serena said, repeating it like a mantra as she gently stroked June’s hair. June lifted her head from Serena’s lap and mopped her tears up with the sleeves of her gown. _This is embarrassing! I’ve never cried once in front of her—not even when she was beating the shit out of me or trying to choke me! What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I must be hormonal or something,” June said.

“Well that answers the question that was burning in my mind,”Serena said, reaching over to pour June a cup of ‘tea’. “You really do care.”

“Maybe I do--more than I thought possible, given our circumstances,” June admitted.

“I can see why you thought it might be me—it really could have been,” Serena said. “I’ll find out who the unfortunate wife was soon enough. By the way, what creepy thing did Fred say this morning that made you think he had done something to me?”

“Rita and I were talking about the shopping,” June explained. “She was harping on about the cut of meat I was supposed to demand, and asking me to get some sugar—she wanted to make something special for you because she’d barely seen you eat anything, and who knew how long the Commander would keep you locked up in there, and that’s when Fred walked in on our conversation. He said that we shouldn’t worry. He apologized for the tense atmosphere in the house and the increased number of guards, and for Mrs. Waterford being ‘indisposed’, but that he believed your situation had been resolved now.”

“That weak bastard. I wonder what joys he has in store for me. You know I’m going to have to continue to pay my proper penance to him.”

“All the more reason for us to not waste any time and plan our escape out of here,” June said. “I’m thinking that waiting until things calm down is a waste of time. With the stroke of a pen, he can have me reassigned a thousand miles away from here. And if we’re separated, our chances of getting out of here together are toast.”

“You make a good point, June. We have a brief window to plan this and we can’t afford any missteps. I’ve got some information to gather, and I need to get in touch with a couple of old friends that owe me a favor,” Serena said.

“But you’re still being watched. How will you get in touch with anyone outside of this house?” June asked.

“I have my ways,” Serena said looking out the window with the slightest smile on her lips.

“What can I do?” June asked.

“Tomorrow, I want you to go into Fred’s study and find us some maps, Serena said. “I want to be able to see all the way to Pennsylvania to the west, New England, NY and Canada to the North. There are a bunch of atlases and maps on the right side of his office, on the bottom bookshelf closest to his desk. He’s messy and everything looks disorganized, but be careful—he notices little things out of place, so don’t disturb the pile unnecessarily.

“And where’s our illustrious Commander going to be while I’m breaking into his office?” June asked.

“Fred’s going to be gone all day tomorrow from early morning until at least midnight,” Serena explained. “They’re preparing for a big summit meeting with China that’s happening in three weeks. China loves what Gilead has done and wants to “assist” in providing us with military and tactical support. This is huge for Fred and it’s why he had to pull back on my house arrest thing. He has to stay focused on the Summit. All the Commanders will be as well, so they won’t be as focused on a wife and a Handmaid plotting their escape—if we’re careful and play our cards close to the vest.”

“And where will you be tomorrow?” June asked.

“I’ll be at the Military Wives Auxiliary meeting—we’re knitting socks for the troops at the front lines while we complain about our lot in life. I’ll be able to get a lot of information from the wives. They usually drink too much wine, and get very chatty once they are properly lubricated.”

“You said ‘properly lubricated’ June said snickering.

“I see someone has fully recovered from her scare earlier,” Serena said laughing. “And yes, I did.”

June shrugged and said, “You know humor is the only thing that keeps me going sometimes around here. And you’ve not had a proper foil to verbally spar with you. Flirty banter with you is merely a coping mechanism for dealing with the atrocities of this place.”

“Is that what you call ‘flirty banter’? I thought it sounded more like something a 12-year-old boy would say.” Serena rose from her chair and retrieved her coveted black-market cigarettes from her desk drawer. “Do you want one?” Serena asked.

“Sure, why not?” June said, watching as Serena lit one cigarette, inhaled deeply, removed it from her mouth and lit a second cigarette off the tip of the first, and passed the first cigarette over to June. _How the hell does she manage to make lighting a cigarette look and feel like foreplay? There is really something wrong with me. I’m definitely going to need A LOT of therapy when I get out of here,_ June thought.

“June, you’re staring at me—is something wrong?” Serena asked, her voice a little rougher from the cigarette.

June said nothing, pretending to be very focused on smoking. “Shhhh. I’m relaxing. Isn’t smoking supposed to relieve stress?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to,” Serena said. “But I’ve recently discovered another stress management tool that is actually more effective than smoking.”

“Have you now?” June said, her eyebrow lifting suggestively.

“Yes I have, and I believe I gave you a very, very short preview of its effectiveness the other evening,” Serena said. “Maybe you’d like me to give you a more thorough demonstration sometime?”

“I think I would enjoy that, Serena. And if you’ll excuse me, “June said, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray, “I’ll be upstairs in my room. All evening. And all night long. And into the early morning hours. And tomorrow. And the day after that. Alone. With literally, not a fucking thing to do but think about the last time you fucked me,” June said, her blue eyes darkening with arousal.

“Under his eye,” Serena called out as June walked out of the room.


	7. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June is waiting...again.

That evening, June took a long bath, and washed her hair with the cheap, harsh soap that was carefully rationed. Her clothing options were sorely limited, so she opted for her nightgown--and, for a little excitement as well as expediency, she decided to forgo the underwear. She didn’t even want to think what the punishment for that level of immodesty would be, but she was pretty sure Aunt Lydia wasn’t going to find out—not on this night at least. June brushed out her long blond hair, brushed her teeth, paced her room, and finally, just sat by the window and looked outside, trying to quiet her mind and failing miserably.

Time had rarely been her friend in Gilead. There was almost never anything to look forward to, and there was very little to break the monotony of endless hours with nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing to read, and nothing to hope for.

And on this night, as least for the first few hours, June allowed herself a bit of hope--that maybe, just maybe for a little while, she could blot everything out of her mind except the way Serena made her body feel. Until a couple of days ago, she thought that Gilead had killed any possibility of pleasure for her. With every passing month, her body grew more and more numb—a coping mechanism to help endure the role she was assigned in this place. But to feel pleasure in her body? Pleasure was something that had to be allowed—by her and only her. When she let her guard down and allowed pleasure in, it was because she chose to.

The first time she fucked Nick as part of Serena’s plan to get her pregnant, June felt nothing. It was not an act of love, or pleasure. Although Nick and June both ‘consented’, they really had no choice. Serena would have punished them in some imaginatively painful way if they hadn’t cooperated. They were both trapped in this world where freedom was just a distant memory, and they were bound to do the bidding of those with power.

While Nick caused her no pain that first time they fucked, he was just about as mechanical and cold as Fred was. Maybe it was because Serena was standing 12 feet away watching. Maybe Nick was afraid of feeling pleasure too. To let down your guard—even for a few minutes—was to make yourself vulnerable, and vulnerability could get you killed here. They never discussed it. Not even when June went back to Nick and claimed him for her own pleasure. Moments of happiness in Gilead were almost too much to hope for, and you had to grab on wherever you could, because you never knew when, and if, the opportunity would come again.

Serena was a complete surprise. She knew cold, calculating, angry, barren and bitter Serena. She even knew poised, confident, and elegant Commander’s Wife Serena. But this new Serena was someone she had never met before, and June wasn’t sure if this was yet another role Serena was playing, or if this was her without artifice—the woman underneath all of the disguises.

Yes, this Serena was a complete surprise to June. But more surprising was her own reaction to her. How her body had responded to Serena immediately—how she drank her kisses with a thirst that couldn’t be slaked. How her hips reached out to meet Serena’s every thrust. How even now, her body hummed with anticipation, aching for the feeling of her skin touching Serena’s—of their bodies impossibly close and melding together, getting lost in each other’s embrace. Not for the first time today, June vaguely wondered if she was really more psychologically damaged than she could possibly imagine.

And still more disturbing than her physical desire for Serena, was her emotional attachment. When had that started to grow out of control? June had almost fainted when she saw the unidentified wife swinging on the wall. Her stomach was queasy for hours, sick with fear that Serena had been killed. What was that about? When had the shift changed from wishing her a violent, merciless death, to being terrified that Serena had actually been killed. The wide range of disparate emotions that played between Serena and June were so complex, so twisted in their roots, that it would take some exceptionally skilled psychotherapy to unravel it all—if it was even possible.

As hour after hour passed and the evening turned into the night, June’s physical desire dimmed, and was replaced by disappointment—then anger. Although Serena had never specifically said she would come to her room that night, June had allowed herself to hope. _What am I hoping for, anyway? Serena and I are not dating, and she is not my girlfriend—even if I did call her that once. I am a prisoner in this house and Serena is my captor. She’s not my lover. I can’t want anything from her because she doesn’t have anything to give to me—she’s just a taker. She wants whatever she can take, and I served myself up to her on a silver platter. How the fuck did I let this get so personal? This has got to be some crazy transference kind of thing that’s happening where I’ve become so fucked up with my loyalties that I feel sorry for me and sorry for her. And for the minute and half that she kissed me and fucked me, I felt like she cared for me. Like she wanted me. She has literally fucked my head up so hard that I’m confused and I can’t even think about this for one more minute._

Disgusted with herself for allowing her desire for Serena to reach such a fevered pitch, June got up from her seat at the window and climbed into bed. She thought about touching herself to relieve tension that had been building all evening while she sat vigil for Serena, but it was pointless. She was too angry, and she would only end up thinking about her anyway, and she didn’t even want to give ‘Mrs. Waterford’ that much of herself. It took her several hours, but she finally fell asleep.

The next morning, June awakened to the sound of rain splattering against her window pane. She lay in bed, her head foggy and pounding from lack of sleep and dehydration, when suddenly she caught the scent of something sweet and familiar. Opening her eyes, she saw the source—a small bouquet of irises, resting on the pillow beside her head. June brought the bouquet to her nose and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent from her unexpected gift. _God damn her,_ June thought, unsure if she was relieved that Serena actually did come to her room last night, or angry that she didn’t wake her. _And of course, she can’t leave me a fucking note because she’ll lose another damned finger if she picks up a pen._

June got out of bed and placed the flowers on top of her dresser, next to her wings and gloves, mentally reminding herself to hide them before she left her room for the day. Handmaids getting bouquets of flowers was definitely against the rules regardless of who gave them to her. As sweet as the gesture was, June pushed all thoughts of Serena aside, resolving to focus on her homework for the day—to break into Fred’s office and find those maps.


	8. Doubts, regrets and resolve

Serena woke very early, after sleeping only fitfully. She had intended to go up to June’s bedroom last evening and spend the night, which actually wasn’t such an odd occurrence—she’d already set the precedent for doing so when June was pregnant with Nichole. And although nothing sexual happened between the two women as Serena crawled in bed with June night after night during those long months of pregnancy, the flame of desire had been lit—in both of them it would seem, judging by what had happened in the past few days.

But something stopped Serena from climbing the flight of stairs to June’s room. Of course, there was the chance of being caught—Fred was on high alert, and his position and rank were threatened by the Waterford house’s recent notoriety. On a normal evening, she and Fred never saw each other after dinner—Serena would knit, or paint, and Fred stayed in his office. They had taken to sleeping in separate bedrooms years ago, because as a Godly man, he didn’t want to take the chance of being ‘tempted’ by his wife’s flesh. But with recent events in the household and her recent public punishment, Serena did think it probable that he might deviate from his habit and check in on her, or perhaps, treat her to some additional, extra-curricular punishment. _And I’d hate to miss out on that_ , Serena thought with a shudder.

The other thing that gave her pause about going to June that evening were those nagging doubts about motives and truthfulness that had been playing a constant loop in her mind. The two women were playing a high stakes game of poker, and June was admittedly better at the game than Serena was. Even with nothing more than the equivalent of a pair of twos, June could bluff her way out of any situation, with her hard stare and cocky self-assuredness, invariably winning the hand.

 _Leave it to me to pick the most cunning, devious and deceptive Handmaid,_ Serena thought. Fred had left the choice to Serena, and she was drawn to June’s background, intelligence, and physical similarities. The description in June’s file didn’t sugar coat it—she was going to be a handful. But when Serena made her choice known to Aunt Lydia, even she agreed that if anyone could manage June/now Offred’s defiant nature, it was definitely Serena. Aunt Lydia even offered her one of the Aunt-issued cattle prods to help keep her new Handmaid in line, but Serena politely declined. 

Had she made a mistake in kissing June? It certainly didn’t feel like it at the time, and even now, Serena had a hard time regretting it, even if it did give June more power over her than she’d ever had before. And then of course, she couldn't help herself. June got saucy with her, saying some shit about being drenched, and Serena couldn't stop herself from plunging her fingers inside June's incredibly wet pussy. Just the thought of it made her catch her breath and sent heat right down to her core. _She’s always had that power over me—the only difference is that now she knows it._

God, she hated needing anyone! Serena had closed herself off so tightly from everyone and everything that she’d become this cold, impenetrable fortress. Years of being denied sexual pleasure had taken its toll on Serena—prayer could only help so much. And it hadn’t taken June much effort at all to start tearing down the walls, carefully built over so many years of disappointments and regret. But Serena wasn’t ready for those walls to come crashing down on her at once. At least she didn't think she was.

Was she scared of whatever this was with June? Absolutely. That kiss had felt so fucking right, like June was the holy grail she’d sought her whole life. That kiss inflamed a desire that Serena had tried to quell for a long time—long before Fred Waterford entered the picture. If Fred was like a glass of partially spoiled milk, June was a single malt Scotch, neat. And knowing that June was waiting for her upstairs, wanting to help her tear down those walls and make her feel everything she’s ever denied herself, she choked—she couldn’t—she just couldn’t do it. Even with every fiber of her body pulling her out of her chair and urging her upstairs, her fears and mistrust won—at least for the night.

Serena understood that she would need to face her fears and overcome them—soon. Or she would lose any chance of being with June. _And what does that even mean?_ Serena wondered. _I want to believe everything she said. She seems sincere, and she isn’t that good of an actress to fake how she feels when I touch her…maybe it might be ok to trust her. What’s the alternative? A life with Fred where I am invisible with no voice, no child, no chance for love and no hope?_

Serena made her decision. She changed into her nightdress, and unpinned her long blond hair, brushing it in long strokes until it shone. After brushing her teeth, she climbed into bed. She knew sleep would likely elude her as it did most nights. It was hard for Serena to sleep unless she had completely exhausted herself somehow, which was hard to do in a place where she had nothing to occupy her time. And when she couldn’t sleep, her conscience plagued her. Had they gone too far with Gilead? Was it even working? Was it worth giving up every single thing just for the chance of possibly having a child brought into this world by a woman that had been enslaved and forced into sexual servitude? A woman who had absolutely no choice in the matter.

Serena visibly winced as she recalled what was, for her, the worst time in Gilead--when June escaped while she was pregnant with Nichole. She’d never asked-- and June never told her-- where she’d been, how she’d survived, how she’d gotten caught. Enduring 92 days of not knowing whether June and the baby were dead or alive, whether they would ever come back, and whether she would be able to handle it if they didn’t. She cried herself to sleep every night, and days went by when she existed on nothing but cigarettes, rage and powerlessness. When Fred tried to comfort her, she would invariably spit her anger and fire at him saying “And what the fuck have you done to bring her back today, you weak bastard?” And when June did come back to the Waterford’s after surviving her ‘abduction’, Serena’ welcomed her home by nearly choking her to death and threatening Hannah’s life if she ever pulled a stunt like that again. 

_Not my finest moment,_ Serena thought. _No matter how long I live, no matter how I try to make it up to June, I don’t see how she can ever forgive me for all the things I’ve done to her. How did I become this monster who I don’t even recognize? Did this place make me like this, or was I always this horrible and just managed to cover it up with scriptures and smiles?_

Serena sighed. Self-loathing was like a second skin on her these days, but she needed to stay focused on what was important. She had a chance now—to get out of Gilead with June and Hannah, and reunite with their daughter Nicole. Maybe even redeem her soul. Was it a longshot? Maybe. Maybe not. Serena knew an awful lot of people and more importantly, she knew an awful lot about an awful lot of people. Including Fred—now there was a man with a lot of dark secrets. _I can do this. I know I can._

Knowing that she needed to rest while she could, _s_ he closed her eyes and brought herself back to those nights when she slept beside June and their baby. How she used to marvel at the changes happening to June’s body as their daughter grew inside her. How she was able to sleep so peacefully, holding June in her arms. How she felt protective and safe all at the same time. She imagined the smell of June’s hair, as she spooned her, her face buried in June’s neck…and at last, she drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, in the early hours of the morning, Serena sorely regretted her choice to stay away from June’s room. She knew June had waited for her, and was probably furious and perhaps even hurt that she hadn’t come to her. Feeling like a coward, and wanting to make it up to June, Serena put her cloak on over her robe and snuck out to the greenhouse to put together a small peace offering. The house was still eerily quiet, as no one was about yet, so she was able to accomplish her mission without being seen. Then, climbing the stairs as quietly as possible, Serena entered June’s room. June always looked so innocent in her sleep, which was completely counter to her fierce, defiant nature when awake. Serena quietly knelt down beside the bed and watched June for a few moments before depositing the flowers next to June on her pillow. Leaning down, she left the ghost of a kiss on June’s lip and departed. Serena had a lot to do to get ready to meet the wives again—it would be the first time she’d seen them since the rebellion she staged had failed spectacularly, culminating with the loss of her finger. There was no time to waste.


	9. The Military Wives Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena spends her day with the women of the Military Wives Auxiliary and finds it very fruitful.

Serena’s driver pulled up to Naomi Putnam’s house for the Military Wives Auxiliary meeting. Members rotated hostess duties, and this month was Naomi’s turn. Naomi had been Serena’s best friend before Gilead, and she remained her best friend now. Naomi was smart, strong and capable, just like Serena. And like Serena, Naomi was a survivor.

Before they became “Wives” for the greater cause, they both worked in careers they loved—Serena as an author and public speaker, and Naomi as an investment broker for a major global hedge fund. They often met for lunch or after work for drinks. Serena missed those times, just relaxing with her friend at a local restaurant or bar, talking about everything and nothing and laughing until tears sprung in the corners of her eyes.

And then one day, Warren Putnam came to Naomi’s office on the top floor of the Prudential Center in Boston to pick her up for lunch, just as Fred arrived to pick Serena up at her publisher’s office. In fact, all of the Commanders’ Wives around the state were picked up by their husbands for impromptu lunch dates, and were subsequently informed that legally, they could no longer hold jobs; all of their bank accounts and investments were frozen, and were now only accessible by them as their husbands. None of them ever set foot in their places of business again, and most never even got to say goodbye to colleagues they’d spent years working with. And they were the lucky ones. Other women were rounded up in conference rooms, summarily fired and given 5-10 minutes to gather their things and leave the premises. Orderliness was enforced by armed guards.

Although her blood ran cold, Serena Joy Waterford, the public face of Gilead, took the news gracefully, albeit stoically, praising Fred for his leadership, and stating that she looked forward to their new world and expressing relief that finally, the true will of God could be done. In similar fashion, Naomi said the right words to her husband, praising him, praising God and praising be. But inwardly, she nursed the bitter hurt of having the freedom she cherished taken from her unceremoniously, and without apology. She loved her work, she loved using her brain, and she had no idea how often she’d taken both for granted. Fortunately Naomi, Serena and all the women caught within Gilead’s boundaries had plenty of time to regret all the things that were gone from their lives and that they’d likely never get back—and how they stepped aside and let it all happen

It was ironic that these hard-working, intelligent women had achieved the highest rank for a woman in Gilead society, just by virtue of who they were married to. It was an elite group, and they were looked to as examples of what pious, humble, and Godly women should aspire to be. They wore the uniform of their rank – blue gowns with high collars, blue tights, blue high heeled shoes and boots in the winter, and of course, the striking blue cloaks that made them all look like a legion of God’s terrifying angels. There was a small amount of individualization allowed, in shoe style, and the cut and style of the gowns and cloaks. Bras, underwear, slips and other lingerie-type items were pretty stodgy—but sexier fare was available on the black market. Some of the women secretly indulged themselves and continued to wear silk bras and panties under their Wives’ uniforms. It was their only tie to their prior lives and a time when their bodies belonged to themselves, and sexual pleasure was on their terms—and yes, taken for granted. 

On the day that hundreds of thousands of women were told that they could no longer hold employment, own property or even have money in their own name, most women were caught off guard. They had not heeded the warning signs—basic human rights stripped away, a government deaf to the needs of its people, and a constituency too exhausted and worn out to continue to fight. Governments don’t topple in a day, and a new society doesn’t get birthed in a month. Women like Serena, Naomi, and all of the original, founding Commanders’ Wives heeded those early signs and had been planning for this doomsday scenario for the better part of two years. Among their ranks were lawyers, accountants, doctors, professors, scientists, economists, writers, and like Naomi, investment experts. They pooled their expertise, working secretly and collaboratively, taking any preemptive legal (and some illegal) measures to procure passports and identity papers, and protect their money and their future for life outside Gilead. Knowing that access to their money would be challenging, as electronic communications would be traced, written letters would be censored, and phones would be tapped, they took as many precautions as they could in imagining the worst of days. At a minimum, each wife moved a good portion of their retirement, savings and investment funds to untraceable bank accounts in the Bahamas, Switzerland, and the Cayman Islands, before Gilead froze all their accounts.

Under Naomi’s insistence, each of them left enough behind in their local accounts to be seized to avoid suspicion—that money would transfer to their husbands anyway, so it wasn’t a complete loss. If a woman had no checking or saving account, or were void of funds, it would draw suspicion—possibly to the whole group of them. That’s why every single wife who belonged to the Military Wives Auxiliary was in on this highly organized caper. Shared responsibility gave them insurance that no single one of them could ever expose their scheme to their husbands or any authorities, because they were all 100% equally complicit. In fact, once the accounts were all set up and the money transferred, they all agreed to a gag order. As long as each of them held onto their bank account numbers and passwords, they would be able to access their money outside of Gilead. And they all expected to leave Gilead at some point—in fact, they never thought it would get as far as it did. While very few wives had ever hit the eject button and left Gilead, those that did had all the money they needed to bribe their way out, and set themselves up for a new life wherever they chose.

Compared to the radical, subversive nature of the group before Gilead was officially formed, the Military Wives Auxiliary looked as tame as any ladies auxiliary group attached to a local church or municipality. The women usually dressed for the occasion, and were served an elegant luncheon. Serena was slightly nervous about today, as she hadn’t spoken to anyone besides Naomi since they staged their protest at the Commander’s meeting—the same one where Serena lost her finger. The sensible side of her knew that each of the wives had endured their own type of scandal over the years, and hers was not especially spectacular, although it did seem that Fred and Serena had gone through a string of unfortunate occurrences. It started with June’s kidnapping—twice, Fred’s grievous injuries sustained when Ofglen #2 blew up the Red Center, then Nichole’s kidnapping. But they were not the only families experiencing rough times. Naomi’s Handmaid tried to jump off a bridge while holding the baby that she had been forced to give Naomi and Warren. If that wasn’t enough of a humiliation, the also had to endure the punishment of having part of Warren’s arm cut off when it was revealed by the same Handmaid that he’d promised to run away with her and the baby—and that he forced her to perform oral and anal sex with him. And that was just one family’s misfortunes. There was enough “sinning” done within the households of the Wives and Commanders that Serena wasn’t terribly concerned that she would be shunned by the group. They all appeared to be pious and compliant wives on the outside, but inside, these women they were the same rebels that set up their elaborate financial escape plans. They all understood the deplorable and oppressive conditions for women in Gilead, and they supported each other’s ‘misfortunes’ privately, even though they were never allowed to do so in public, for fear that the Eyes would find out and all hell would break lose.

As Serena entered the room, Naomi came up to greet her and took her into a warm embrace. “How are you Serena?” she asked, deliberately not mentioning the finger incident. “I’m very well, Praise be!” Serena lied smoothly, leading Naomi off to a quiet corner of the room. “Did you hear about poor Miranda Chapman?” Naomi asked. “Was she the one who was hung…” Serena started to say when Naomi cut her off, “yes, yes, you know what I’m talking about,” Naomi said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “They say she committed adultery, but I don’t believe a word of it. The real scuttlebutt is that she refused to go through with the Ceremony any longer, and she became very vocal about the treatment of Handmaids in general. The Aunts and the Eyes got together and decided she was too much of a threat to the peaceful order of things, so they hung her on the wall.”

Serena took a moment to digest Naomi’s news. _Well hell, then half of us are going to swing on that wall soon enough. There’s not one woman in this room who doesn’t loathe the “Ceremony” that was clearly dreamed up by some sadomasochist, misogynistic impotent commander._

“May the Lord have mercy on us all,” Serena said, keeping her thoughts to herself and leading Naomi back to the rest of the group. “And how is baby Angela doing?” Serena asked, returning to a more neutral topic.

“I’ll have to confess, we have had our challenges with her health, but since Ofwarren returned to us for a time, she began to thrive and she’s been just wonderful, putting on weight and eating like a champ. She’ll be starting on strained vegetables and fruits in a week or two,” Naomi said proudly to a chorus of “Praise be’s” from the women nearest to them.

“Ladies!” Patrice Winter, chairperson of the Auxiliary called. “Please take your seats so we can get to the business part of the meeting.” “So, the stitching and bitching part of the meeting can begin!” Naomi said giggling. “And don’t forget about the wine,” Serena said with a smile.

As the ladies took their seats, Patrice ran through the agenda efficiently, sticking to purely G rated topics. Neither Serena’s finger, or Miranda Chapman’s unfortunate demise made the “new news” section. While the Military Wives Auxiliary meeting were supposedly “safe” places to speak freely, there was really no such thing in Gilead. Eyes and spies were everyone, and no one in that room was naïve enough to think anything differently. They would never dream of mentioning the death of one of their own unless it was due to natural causes. And of course, pregnancies and births were big news. But punishments, scandals, kidnappings, child abduction—none of those were proper topics for the official part of the meeting. Much like the Handmaids and the Marthas had learned how to communicate with each other without being noticed, the wives had mastered the same skills. As the business part of the meeting concluded, Serena made her way over to the buffet table, where she was joined by several of her closest friends—Joanna Parsons, Alexandra Crowley, and Heather Vasquez. Remarkably, all four of them had been in the same class at Harvard, all had exciting careers and all had the fortune (or misfortune depending on your perspective) of marrying a Commander. These women, along with Naomi, were her most dependable and loyal friends, who she could always count on to have her back, no matter what.

Joanna was the first to embrace Serena whispering, “I wish I could cut their dicks off for what they did to you!” Alexandra was next, saying “Praise be, Serena, you are looking exceptionally well!” out loud and whispering into her ear, “just say the word, and I will fuck someone up for this.” Heather took Serena’s face in her hands, both of which were missing one digit, and kissed both of her cheeks. She couldn’t speak without giving her emotions away, and let her eyes show Serena both the empathy and the rage she was feeling over this latest violation. Emotions among the small group were high—Miranda Chapman had not been a close friend of any of them, but she was intelligent, kind, and in no way deserved to hang on the wall.

“It’s so good to see all of you!” Serena said smiling stepping back from the buffet table and casually drawing the three women towards her for a moment of private conversation. “You know, just last week, I was remembering the trip the four of us took to that spa in Iceland—do you remember?” Everyone in the small group involuntarily stiffened. They quickly recovered a more relaxed stance and one by one, they responded with words they had long ago rehearsed. “I remember the slimy water in that mineral pool,” Joanna said laughing, her eyes locked onto Serena nodding slightly. “I remember the reindeer pooping everywhere we walked,” Alexandra giggled, her eyes catching Serena’s and nodding slightly. “I remember hiking on that glacier and watching the Aurora Borealis,” Heather said, reaching over to squeeze Serena’s forearm. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Serena let out the breath she had been holding and her shoulders relaxed slightly as her smile widened. All three of them were “in.” These women where part of Serena’s escape plan, which she had just activated by using the code phrase about Iceland. And each of the three women had acknowledged Serena’s code word by repeating their own response phrases, assigned several years ago when they had all agreed to help Serena (and each other whenever it became necessary) to escape Gilead. Naomi was not part of this plan because as Serena’s best friend, she would be the first person interrogated and perhaps scape-goated when news of Serena’s escape reached the Guardians.

“How many years ago was that, Serena?” Joanna asked. “My memory isn’t what it used to be.” “It was 10 years ago,” Serena responded. “10 years?” Heather exclaimed! That doesn’t seem very long ago at all.” “Time’s a funny thing,” Alexandra said. “Sometimes it passes slowly, and sometimes quickly. But even though you think you don’t have enough time, it always works out.”

“Praise be,” Serena said. “We should go get lunch so we can get on with the second half of the meeting.”

“Yes, we don’t want to be late for the alcohol-induced, loose lips portion of today’s show,” Joanna said walking with Serena and the other two women towards the buffet.

As Serena helped herself to a small portion of seafood salad, an herbed rice dish and sautéed vegetables, she hung back a bit to make sure that she would find a seat at a table with at least one of her three co-conspirators. The only thing she’d managed to communicate about her plan in their coded conversation was that it needed to be executed within 10 days. Each of them had been preassigned tasks which, individually, would never help Serena escape. But all of the tasks, when completed together, would lead to a well-constructed, and hopefully, fool-proof plan. _All I have to do is tell one of them how many of us are going, and they’ll do the rest._

“Come join me over here,” Alexandra said, point Serena to a table in the middle of the room with two women already seated. Serena smiled at her friend and not for the first time, marveled at how she navigated subterfuge on a daily basis. It would be logical to think that the women would want to have a private conversation to discuss logistics, but in reality, that could be a deadly, stupid move. Hiding in plain sight, in the middle of the crowd, was a better strategy.

“Are these seats taken?” Alexandra asked. “Not at all Alexandra, and a gracious good day to you Serena!” said Elizabeth Pike, one of the older members of the Wives Auxiliary who was notoriously hard of hearing. “Janice and I would be delighted to have you join us, wouldn’t we Janice?” Janice just smiled and stared vacantly and Serena and Alexandra.

Poor Janice Davis was having a rough time emotionally, and not just because life in Gilead was hard. She’d had bipolar disorder since she was a teenager, which she managed quite well with Lithium. However since Gilead didn’t believe in psychiatry and had banned all psychiatric medication, Janice was completely reliant on black market products—and the strength and dosages were never consistent. So she had good months and bad months, depending upon whether her husband was able to obtain medication for her in the correct dosage, or whether he’d had to settle for a lesser product. This month, Commander Davis had not been as successful as he had been in the past, and Janice was paying the price. Elizabeth drew Janice’s attention back to whatever they had been discussing, leaving the two newcomers to their own conversation. Elizabeth was very protective of her friend, as they had been thick as thieves since way before Gilead was even thought in anyone’s mind. She wanted as little attention paid to Janice as possible until she rode out this emotional storm.

Serena and Alexandra set down their plates and took their seats, discussing the recent weather patterns, mixed in with a bit of news about each of their own households—all very innocuous and nothing that would raise suspicion. Midway through the meal, with Elizabeth and Janice deep into their conversation, Serena, spoke softly to Alexandra. “There’ll be 2 women joining me on the committee to beautify the Gardens of the Virgin Mary,” Serena said. “And we are all anxious to get started. Do you still have those plans we had sketched out a couple of years ago when the idea of this first started?” Serena asked.

“Three of you? That’s wonderful Serena, and a true sign of your leadership abilities,” Alexandra gushed, confirming that Serena would be departing with two other women. “As a matter of fact, I do have those plans and drawings, and I can dust those off and get them to you shortly,” Alexandra responded, her voice giving nothing away to anyone who might be eavesdropping. “And you said you are kicking this off in 10 days?” Alexandra said, wanting to confirm Serena’s desired departure date.

“Yes, that’s right,” Serena said. “There’s just one thing I might need your help navigating, Alexandra. There’s a garden in the western part of the state that I’d like to model ours on, and perhaps take some cuttings from. It’s owned by Jessica Owen. There’s one rose hybrid that she adopted from another family of roses that I must get a cutting of.”

“Do you know her well?” Alexandra asked. “No, not at all, Serena replied, but one of the women on my committee does. Apparently, she is a savant when it comes to gardening, and has that adopted rose in her garden. I’m not sure she’ll want to part with it,” Serena said. “Well, we’ll just have to persuade her, that’s all,” Alexandra said, giving Serena’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I love your positive attitude,” Serena said, smiling at her friend. “Well of course, Serena. It’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me in the same situation.”

Her mission accomplished, Serena relaxed and walked over to one of the more comfortable chairs, where several women had already started knitting socks and drinking wine. Joanne and Heather were staked out in one corner, and Naomi was sitting on the other side of the room. Not wanting to call attention to any of these women or be seen spending a lot of time with them, she joined a few of the newer Wives that she didn’t know very well and spent a pleasant afternoon watching them get smashed and listening to them spill what little information they had from their husbands about whatever they were working on. Serena learned that for the China visit, they would be diverting 50% of the guards stationed at the Canadian border, to help manage the risk of home grown terrorist plots, and provide additional security to protect their honored guests. “Now would be a perfect time for someone to lose their minds and blow something up,” one of the women said quietly, her voice slurring. “The Chinese coming here is big—really big—and everyone knows it. It’s the worst kept secret in Gilead.”

“I pray you are wrong, Mrs. Clay,” Serena said with a hint of warning in her voice. “I know how important the success of this visit is to the future of Gilead, and nothing must spoil it,” she said, the other women nodding their agreement and taking the hint that they needed to rein in their tongues.

Mercifully, after another hour or so, the women began to gather their knitting supplies and coats and headed out. Serena found Naomi to thank her and take her leave. “Oh, but Serena, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you today!” Naomi said pouting a bit. “Can’t you stay for awhile longer? We could go visit Angela together—unless that’s too painful for you right now.”

“I wish I could, Naomi, but Fred’s been particular about his meals and being on time lately and I’d like to be respectful of that,” Serena said. “And,” she whispered as she hugged Naomi goodbye, “I can’t afford to piss him off any more than I already have.” “Praise be,” said Naomi as Serena walked out the door and into her awaiting car.


	10. What's in the bottom drawer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June raids Fred's office

June spent her day the way she spent most of her days. Breakfast, shopping with her walking partner Ofmatthew, and keeping her eyes and ears peeled for any information. Ofmatthew was a typical pious Gilead cheerleader, but she did have one vice. She talked an awful lot. _And as long as I keep saying ‘praise be’ and ‘may the Lord bless us’, she’ll keep up a steady patter of mostly unimportant, but occasional gems of information._

Apparently, the summit with the Chinese delegation was huge news, and it was on the minds of all the Gilead high command. Resources were being deployed for extra security around the Chinese delegation and the location of their meetings was on 24-hour lockdown, swept hourly for bombs, listening devices, and anything else that might disrupt the event. _If even she knows all of this, then either Gilead is planting this story to hide the location of where they are actually going to meet, or they really are that dumb and think that nothing can touch their massive security forces._ June made a mental note to discuss this with Serena—maybe she’d learned something from her ‘Wives’ meeting today that will shed more light on this. If they were going to make a break for it sometime in the next couple of weeks, either right before or during the summit, they needed insight into what’s really being planned to figure out a work-around.

They finished their shopping in good time, and when Ofmatthew asked June if she wanted to take the long way, she declined politely, stating that Rita was making a special meal this evening, and that she needed the ingredients as soon as possible. Ofmatthew tried to pry more information from June about the special meal, but June played dumb, saying she wasn’t privy to the Waterford’s social calendar.

June bade her walking partner ‘Under His Eye’ and headed back into the house, stopping at the kitchen to unpack the groceries. For once, Rita wasn’t super critical about what she’d purchased, which was a nice change of pace for June.

“Rita, unless you need me for anything, I’m going to go lay down,” June said.

“That’s fine. Have a good rest,” Rita said, smiling slightly at June. _Wonder why she’s being so nice today? I’m going to need to keep an eye out for her._ June and Rita had developed a relationship of sorts, but neither completely trusted the other yet—but they were getting there.

June climbed halfway up the stairwell, stopped and then backed down the stairs quietly, and made her way to the Commander’s office. It was never locked—it was just completely and totally off limits to anyone in the household, except for the Martha whose job it was to clean it, and he had to be present whenever that occurred _. All sorts of secrets in there, and more serious than Scrabble with the Handmaid, no doubt,”_ June thought chuckling. Quietly, she turned the handle of the door to the office, poked her head around the inside of the door to make sure no one was inside, and then entered, closing the door softly behind her. There was a lock, and she made good use of it— _no one should be touching that door except for Fred, and if Serena’s right, we won’t see him at all tonight._

June went right to the area where Serena told her she’d find the maps. _She wasn’t kidding—he’s kind of a packrat/slob._ She knelt down next to the bottom shelf where he kept all sorts of maps, atlases, guides and other travel-related materials. _This isn’t what I thought I’d find,_ June thought. _I imagined there would be schematics and trade routes, but I suppose all of that is electronically stored—even though the rest of us live in the dark ages here._

June quickly went through the pile, pulling out any maps of the areas formerly known as New England, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York. She picked out the maps that were the most recently created, in the hopes that the main and side routes would still be accurate, and not disturbing the pile enough to be noticeable. Returning the unused maps to the pile and trying to make it look just as Fred had left it, she turned her attention to the files on Fred’s desk. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw her own file right on the top, with a partially completed reassignment form clipped to the front. Either he was interrupted, had a change of heart, or was somehow struggling with the decision as to whether or not to keep her in his house. _Oh Jesus, I not only need to help plan this escape, but I’ve got to somehow weasel my way into Fred’s good graces or he’ll ship me cross country._

Quickly rifling through the rest of the files, and seeing nothing of particular interest to her, she tried opening one of his desk drawers, and found it locked. She bent a paperclip and quickly picked the lock and opened it. In addition to the typical office supplies, pads of papers, pens, etc. she found something at the bottom that caught her eye. Pulling it out from the bottom, she was shocked and amused to find a copy of Hustler magazine, very dog-eared and well used. June held it by the corner to touch as little of it as possible and returned it to its hiding place. She tried another drawer that was unlocked and found another piece of contraband—several pairs of lace panties in black, red and white. They all appeared to be new _. I wonder if these are stocking stuffers for me, Rita and Serena?_ June thought irreverently. _If he’s got this much in these drawers, there’s plenty more where that comes from._

Continuing her search of the desk unearthed more pornography, and photos of Fred with various Jezebel workers. And then, she hit paydirt—in the bottom drawer she found something that definitely would make Fred swing from the wall—they might even omit the hood for more shock and awe. This was his gay-paraphernalia collection—cock rings, ass plugs, dildos in a wide range of alarming sizes, lube, nipple clamps, and some of the filthiest collection of vintage gay porn she’d ever seen. Deciding she’d definitely seen enough, June restored everything on Fred’s desk, and in the drawers, and locked the two drawers that she’d broken into with a key she found taped to the underside of the desk. _I have no idea if I’ll ever need to use that against him, but I will if I need to save me or Serena. But I’ll be keeping this to myself for the time being. I have no desire to have Madame Waterford morph into Medusa before my very eyes and burn this mother fucker down. There’s only so much a woman can take, never mind someone with a short fuse like her._

June grabbed her maps, took a deep breath and carefully exited Fred’s office, making sure that no one saw her leave. She headed straight to her room and pulled up a floorboard from her closet and hid the maps in there. As the adrenaline started to leave her body, June really did feel like she needed to lie down, and laid on top of her covers and took a nap before dinner. She slept harder than she meant to, and woke up groggy. Her sleep was deep and disturbing, with dreams of Fred wearing assless chaps, a leather vest and sporting pierced nipples, dancing on top of a disco truck at the Boston Gay Pride rally. _Jesus, that’s an image that’s burned in my brain forever! Oh why can’t I be someone who forgets her dreams?_ June thought, shaking her head to try to dislodge the image. Determined to shake it off, June got out of bed and splashed cold water on her face, before heading downstairs for dinner.


	11. You'll have to read it to see what happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I can't even write proper chapter titles or summaries, because I don't want to give anything away. I hope you enjoy this.

As June entered the kitchen, there was no one there. Rita had set a place for her at the table and left her dinner out. It must have been very recently, because it was still pretty warm. June was used to eating alone. With Nick gone, and Rita generally too tired to eat dinner, she was often on her own. Fred and Serena sometimes ate dinner in the dining room together, but that was getting to be a rare event. More often than not, Fred was out and Rita brought a tray to Serena’s room where no one would watch her eating alone. June had long ago gotten used to the fact that in Gilead, everyone was watching her every move at all times—and she didn’t give a fuck. People watched her bathe, counted her menstrual cloths, watched her shop, watched her get raped…the list went on and on. Being watched while eating dinner was nothing.

June dug into the lukewarm meal of roasted chicken with canned green beans and instant whipped potatoes—slightly more appetizing than middle school cafeteria fair, but not by much. _Poor Rita. Somewhere inside that woman there's a great cook, with literally no decent food to work with._ June finished her meal, washed her dishes in the sink and dried them, wondering where the fuck Serena was.

She wanted to go look for her, but she didn’t want to look needy. And her body was feeling very fucking needy. Serena had flipped a switch in her and now she felt like she was constantly turned on. Just walking on the street today with Ofmatthew, she felt a generous amount of wetness slip back and forth between her lips with every step she took. For once, she was grateful for the padded bras that were issued to the Handmaids, otherwise her hard, aching nipples would be visible through her dress, which would surely earn her some sort of shaming and punishment. _Get it together Osborne! Go upstairs to your room and just go to sleep. This roaming around and waiting for Serena to come around the corner so she can fuck you or pay attention to you or scream at you or hit you or something—it’s pathetic!_

Disgusted with herself, she poured herself a glass of water and brought it upstairs with her. She wanted the scotch that was up on the high shelf, but she didn’t feel like getting caught. And besides, alcohol was just going to make her hornier than she already was, and might make her do or say something she would ultimately regret.

June walked into her room and headed for the bathroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. She toyed with the idea of taking a bath, but ultimately decided against it. She didn’t want to have all that time to think, and she didn’t want the feeling of the soft water caressing every inch of her body to torture her, so she settled for brushing her teeth, putting her nightgown on, and getting into bed.

As June pulled the covers up higher and turned to her side, she stifled a scream as a hand clamped over her mouth. Her breath was ragged and her heart was beating out of her chest. “Don’t. Fucking. Scream.” Recognizing the voice, June relaxed slightly, but her breath was still coming fast and she fought the urge to bite the shit out of Serena’s hand, deciding her hands had been through enough this week _._

Serena released her hand from June’s mouth, and June turned over to face her. Within seconds, their lips crashed together, their tongues plunging into each other’s mouths, both trying to assert dominance. June was savage—climbing on top of Serena, ripping her own nightgown off and throwing it in the corner of the room. She straddled Serena’s hips and then yanked her nightgown off her, taking a moment to unpin Serena’s hair from its constricting bun. She leaned down, running her fingers through Serena’s hair, bringing their lips back together, all the while grinding mercilessly into her core. June groped Serena’s breasts and broke away from their kiss so she could ravage Serena’s perfect tits. She would have loved to take the time to just admire the beautiful creature that lay writhing beneath her, but she knew that they were fucking on borrowed time, and she would be god-damned if she was going to miss out on this. She needed Serena. She wanted Serena to come apart beneath her. She wanted to own her, just as she was owned by Serena. She had to even the scales and quell the immense heat scorching through her core that threatened to burn the bed down—and make her lose what little sanity she had left.

“June, please…put your mouth on me.”

Without a word, June climbed off of Serena's hips, slid down and dove between her thighs, spreading them as far apart as she could for maximum access. June encountered an impressive pool of wetness between Serena’s legs, and she promptly plunged her face in, covering it from forehead to chin with her lover’s arousal. She wanted to completely saturate herself in Serena’s intoxicating smell and taste. Serena had to cover her own mouth to keep from moaning out loud while she ground her crotch into June’s face. At long last, June took the flat of her tongue and licked Serena from the base of her slit to the top of her clit, repeating the motion over and over, until Serena’s clit was swollen and ready to burst. In a moment of compassion June latched onto Serena’s clit and gently, oh so gently licked it, swirling her tongue around the precious bud, then licked it from the base to the tip, over and over, harder and harder.

“June I’m close—don’t fucking stop—don’t ever fucking stop” said Serena as she grabbed onto June’s head and pushed herself hard up against her tongue.

“Come for me Serena—come for me now,” June said and she plunged 3 fingers inside and aimed right for her G spot.

Every muscle in Serena’s body was tense and ready to release, as she bucked hard against June’s mouth. Knowing Serena was about to come, she kept her fingers deep inside her pussy, and kept massaging her G spot. June felt tremendous pressure push against her fingers as Serena was ready to explode, but June’s hand was in the way of her release. June felt a huge push and she quickly pulled her fingers out, allowing Serena to release a giant gush of fluid. June went right back inside Serena, thrust her fingers in and out , fast and hard, aiming directly at her G spot, then pulling out quickly, allowing more fluid to release. June had never seen so much wetness before and she felt a sense of immense satisfaction. The sheets were ruined, Serena’s face was flushed, and they both knew she wasn’t done yet. Serena held onto June’s head, as she focused her effort just on her clit, wanting to give Serena the release she’d been craving. Serena panted, her heart racing, as her pleasure peaked quickly and brilliantly, and her body lay spent in the ruins of their passion. June held her closely, feeling Serena’s defenses continue to come apart and the walls around her heart turned to rubble. Somehow the scales seemed more balanced between them now.

As Serena came down from her high, she began to lick her own juices off of June’s face and fingers until there wasn’t a trace left. “I see you’re still having trouble with the concept of sharing, but I’m going to let it slide because I really like watching you do that,” June said, her eyes glued to Serena’s tongue while she rubbed her own aching, throbbing clit.

“Allow me,” Serena said, grabbing June’s hand away roughly and replacing it with her own.

“Go inside me—now!” June gasped, as she rode Serena’s hand, chasing her release. She was ridiculously close to coming, and wasn’t in any mood to wait. She’d been turned on for two entire days, and it was driving her insane. Serena latched onto June’s breast, her teeth grazing over June’s nipple and sucking too hard. Her fingers curled inside June, driving in and out of her, while she was met thrust for thrust from above. When June finally reached that weightless place, knowing she was going to come no matter what happened in the next 5 seconds, she slowed her brutal pace and brought her body down on top of Serena’s. White light blinded the inside of June’s eyes, as she buried her face in Serena’s neck, her walls still clutching Serena’s hand like a vice, riding the waves until the tremors stopped. Serena stayed inside her, holding her closely until she was completely finished. “Is it ok if I come out now?” June mumbled her consent and relaxed her muscles enough for Serena to remove her hand. Serena brought her hand up to June’s mouth, allowing her the first taste. June chuckled as she leisurely ran her tongue over Serena’s fingers. “Wow, you gave me the first lick. I’m very impressed.”

“See? I can share.” Serena said, as she returned her fingers to her own mouth so she could finish licking every drop.

“It’s so filthy when you do that—but I really like it,” June said, her fingers tracing circles along Serena’s belly. And it doesn’t seem to matter if it’s mine or yours—you seem to be come agnostic.”

“Shut it, June,” Serena said, pretending to be annoyed.” “And I’m not ‘agnostic’ about come. I have a discerning palate, and I happen to enjoy the way I taste—and mercifully, you’re even more delicious than I am.”

June rolled her eyes at Serena, mouthing ‘whatever.' “If you’re done with clean up, I’m ready to go again.”

“Of course you are—greedy little thing,” Serena said rolling June onto her back. “No worries. We’re not even close to being done.”


	12. Worrying about getting caught is half the fun!

“Not that I really care, but should we be worried about getting caught?” June asked.

“We should always worry about getting caught,” Serena said nibbling June’s ear. “It’s a bigger turn on, don’t you think?”

“You are so fucked up,” June said.

“It’s part of my charm.” Serena said smiling. “Now, would you like me to eat your pussy, or do you want to sit around and worry about being caught?”

“Well,” June said, pretending to consider her options, “How about I worry about being caught while you eat my pussy? Like you said, it’s a bigger turn on that way.”

“My, my, my, what a good little student you are!” Serena said wickedly as she moved off the bed, and dragged June’s body down so her legs were somewhat hanging off the side. She grabbed the single pillow from the bed and dropped it on the floor by her feet.

 _Oh my fucking god, the great Serena Waterford is getting on her knees to eat my pussy—my head is going to explode—_ June thought, knowing better than to run her smart mouth at this moment. Serena was still a crazy, mean, bitch with a very short fuse. And June had no intention of blowing what was bound to be a fan-fucking-tastic tongue lashing of the best kind.

Serena knelt on the pillow, hooked her arms underneath June’s legs, pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, and deposited soft kisses along the inside of June’s thighs. But when her cheek rubbed against her mound and she felt how wet she was, all thoughts of taking it slow went straight out window. Serena nestled her head between June’s thighs and began licking the opening of her vagina with firm, strong strokes, enjoying every drop of nectar that was pooling there. She kept up a steady pace, all but ignoring every other part of June’s body.

“Come on, quit teasing,” June whined.

Serena ignored her and continued to lick around the entrance, thrusting her tongue inside as far as it would go. Her thumb rested on June’s clit, but she wasn’t moving it, causing June to thrust her hips, trying and failing to get more friction where she needed it. She was getting really pissed off and her body was dangerously close to shutting down. Teasing was never her thing—she knew some people loved it, but she wasn’t one of them. And of course, since they weren’t actually dating, or girlfriends or whatever, they’d never had those types of conversations where they got to tell each other what turned them on and what turned them off in bed.

Just as June was ready to grab Serena by the hair and pull her off of her, all of Serena’s focus turned to June’s clit, as she licked, sucked and nibbled at it, building up a consistent, forceful pressure and fast pace.

June’s legs started to shake with anger, frustration and her impending orgasm. “Just like that—do not fucking stop!” June ordered. Serena continued licking and sucking June, while she inserted two fingers and curled them up, massaging June’s clit from the inside.

Wondering vaguely where the fuck Serena had learned all these sex tricks, (and how she could be so fucking angry at her in one moment, and still need her tongue like she needs air), June’s muscles clamped onto Serena’s fingers and she pushed her head down to apply more pressure where she needed it. It only took a few more strokes of Serena’s tongue for June’s orgasm to rip through her, leaving her breathless and wrung out, lying in a pool of her own wetness.

Serena climbed on the bed next to June and lay beside her, brushing the hair away from her face and softly caressing her cheek with her index finger. “I like it like this,” Serena said softly. “The calm after the storm.”

A tear rolled down June’s cheek as she turned her body away from Serena.

“What’s wrong, June? Did I do something wrong—did I hurt you?” Serena asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

“I want you to go now. _I’m about to fall the fuck apart and I can’t have you see me do that, so I need you to leave,_ ” June thought, curling herself onto her side with her knees pulled up to her chest.

“Too bad,” Serena said as she spooned June from behind and wrapped her arms around her body. “I can’t leave you like this.”

“Why the fuck not? Since when do you care?” June said, willing herself to stop crying and losing the battle miserably.

“Since you made me care,” Serena said, stroking June’s hair. “Since you stood up to me and all my bullying and bullshit and made me remember that I’m a human being and I used to have a heart, and I used to be kind. I wasn’t always this monstrous cunt that you’ve come to loathe and despise.”

June stopped crying and pulled one of Serena’s hands close to her chest.

“Trust me June. You can’t loathe and despise me anymore than I loathe and despise myself. Do you want to know why I didn’t come to your bed last night? Because I am scared shitless of you—that this is all some insane dream—or nightmare—and you are going to eviscerate my heart and break me because I’ve been hideous to you and my sins are beyond your forgiveness.”

“You have been kind of a monstrous cunt,” June said. “But you are wrong about the way I feel about you. I can’t define it—I won’t define it. I know I’m supposed to hate you, and that I really shouldn’t feel the way I feel about you, but fuck, I do. And that scares the shit out of me too. In the middle of all this violence and fear and chaos that we live in, all I can think about is you. Thinking about you, desiring you, being desperate for you—these are all things that make me feel needy and disgusted with myself, and most definitely uncomfortable, and yet here I am. You’ve always had power over me Serena—but now you really have **all** the power, and I just handed whatever tiny little bit of control I might have had over to you without a word of protest.”

“That’s funny, June, because I think you have all the power. In fact, you’ve always had all the power over me. And I’m scared because now you know it.”

June sat up in bed and turned to face Serena. “I think we’re both having the same existential crisis, aren’t we?”

“I thought I was the one with the degree in Psychology?” Serena said. “But you’re right. We’re both terrified of getting hurt. Which is kind of stupid because we've both been hurt plenty. This—you and me—like this—talking, touching, kissing, fucking, laughing, crying—this doesn’t hurt. This feels right, somehow—like we found some kind of way to survive the hell of this place. Even though I’m scared of being hurt, it’s better than being dead inside. This somehow feels worth the risk.”

June laid down in Serena’s arms and after several minutes passed, she said “Because I care about you, you have great power over me, and vice versa. Which means, we have the power to hurt each other. We’re already there, in the deep end. We’re scared of something that we’re already in the middle of and it’s too fucking late to get out of now. What’s our alternative? Me getting transferred next week, and you getting another finger chopped off, or maybe a hand next time?”

“Transferred? What are you talking about,” Serena said, her voice taking on that low and dangerous tone that June was too familiar with.

 _Fuck. I wasn’t going to tell her that,_ June thought, pissed off at herself for the slip. “When I was snooping in Fred’s office, I found a partially filled out Handmaid transfer form of some sort. I didn’t have a chance to tell you, because we were too busy fucking all night to catch up on each other’s spying efforts.”

“That spineless prick didn’t even have the decency to tell me, and why doesn’t that even surprise me?” Serena said. “So we have to make him want to keep you here.”

“Honestly, I figured I’d just give him a hand job in his office over a game of Scrabble, and I think that might make him inclined to tear up the transfer papers,” June said.

Serena glared at June. “Surely, we can come up with a better solution.”

“We could blackmail him,” June said. “I found quite a collection of pornography and sex toys, along with several brand-new pairs of black-market lace panties.”

Serena sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, that won’t work. Those are all standard-issue perks to the Commanders. They each get a portion of the bounty of porn that got confiscated and allegedly destroyed. It’s like a right-of-passage for them when they get promoted.”

“So it’s not a big deal, and you already knew about it?” June asked. “I mean, the shit in that bottom drawer was intense—ass plugs, nipple clamps, cock rings, lube for days. I even had a dream about Fred dancing on a truck at the Gay Pride Rally in ass-less chaps.”

“I used to wish I cared enough for him to be upset about his ‘proclivities’, but I just don’t. Fred’s basically a sex-addict trapped in a world where sex is a crime in all but a few circumstances. He hates that about himself—he used to try to be a Godly man, but he gave up a long time ago. His urges are just way too strong. He gets off on both men and women, but he needs it to be illicit sex. Naughty sex. Sex that he’s not allowed to have. It’s the only way he can get off. That’s why he stopped touching me years ago. I’m the one he’s supposed to fuck, so of course, he has no interest. So in short, his porn collection and gay accessories are nothing that will get him punished, and he knows that.” Serena said. “If a Commander wants to jack off in his office all night to gay porn wearing a cock ring and nipple clamps, it’s called stress management—unless he’s caught red-handed. Then he’ll get his arm cut off, like Warren did.”

“I still think if I flirt with him a little bit, fondle his dick and give him something to hope for, he’ll tear that paperwork up pretty quickly. He kind of has a thing for handjobs,” June said, knowing she was skating on very thin ice.

“I’m aware,” Serena said, her voice growing colder.

“Do you still love him Serena?”

“No. I don’t. But I…I don’t want you to touch him like that. I hate the thought of you having to debase yourself like that to him one more time.”

“It’s not like it’s a new thing, Serena. And it’s only to keep me here for another week or two until we can leave here—for good. And by the way, did you make any progress on operation ‘Get the Fuck Out’?”

“Actually, yes, I did. We’ll be leaving sometime within the next 10 days, so be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“What? Are you serious? How did you do all that in one afternoon?” June asked incredulously.

“I can’t tell you any of the details, June. I’m serious about that. Just know that part of my control-freak nature is that I always have a plan A, B, C and D. I always knew that at some time, I’d have to leave, and I made sure I would be ready for that day.”

“Praise be for your OCD tendencies! I can’t believe this is going to happen!” June said, the relief palpable in her voice.

Serena wrapped her arms tightly around June. “I wouldn’t do this just for anyone, you know. I’m jumping off a cliff here, and I need to know that you’ll be holding my hand and jumping with me.”

“Always, Serena. You jump, I jump. Maybe it’s just the endorphins talking, but in this moment, I feel like I would do anything for you. Anything.” June pressed her lips to Serena’s and sealed their pact with a kiss that would linger in their minds until the next time they could be together.

“And on that note, I have to get back to my room,” Serena said. “I don’t trust Fred, especially since I know he’s trying to get you transferred. And, as much as it pains me, your plan is actually the simplest. Find a way to flirt with him. If possible, try not to let him fuck you, but I understand that you’ll do whatever you need to so that he tears up those papers. And if he hurts you in any way, he’ll be dead before we leave.”

“Serena, I really want to tell you something…”

“Shush…save it for when we are free. I don’t want either of us to say things while we are prisoners and under duress. But I will tell you one thing, June. I’m pretty sure that I would walk barefoot over broken glass for you.”

“Ditto,” June said. “Now kiss me goodnight and go to bed and have sweet dreams about me making love to you for hours on end.”

“That’s my plan,” Serena said as they shared one last kiss before she left June’s bed and went to her own room.


	13. Can't I take a bath in peace?

Serena slept better than she had in years, with the smell of June all around her. When she woke, she got out of bed and walked into her bathroom, pulled off her nightgown and turned on the water taps to fill her bathtub. She couldn’t help the smile that had formed during the night and was now staring at her in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself; it had been so long since she’d seen her own smile. And as she looked closely at her reflection, she noticed the muscles of her face were more relaxed, and the deep line in her forehead was not quite so pronounced. She ran her fingers through her long blond hair and remembered June doing the same to her, and pulling it when she wanted to emphasize a point, or to turn Serena or herself on.

Serena tested the temperature with the fingers of her good hand, and after adding more from the hot tap, she stepped into the claw-foot tub and sank into the warmth of the water. She carefully removed the bandage from her maimed hand and saw with relief that June’s careful treatment of her injury had indeed helped stave off the infection and it looked to be healing well. Wanting to keep her finger out of the water, she rested her hand on the rim of the tub, while she tipped her head back to wet her hair. It wasn’t easy working the shampoo into her hair with one hand—she tried not to sink into the anger and resentment just yet. She wanted just a few more moments of smelling June on her skin, and replaying the highlight reel from last night before she donned her façade of barely concealed rage.

“Serena!” Fred bellowed outside the bathroom door.

“I’m in the tub Fred—what do you want?” Serena said coldly _. I really could kill him in his sleep—I think I could get away with it._

Fred opened the door to the bathroom, and leaned against the vanity, surveying the damaged canvas of Serena’s body. “You know, you really need to take better care of yourself dear,” he sneered. Not only is your backside irreparably scarred, but now you’ve managed to maim your hand. What’s next? What else will you manage to do to make your body—your temple of God—more defiled than it already is?”

Serena didn’t bother to try to cover herself from Fred’s eyes. She simply continued trying to shampoo her hair with one hand.

“I asked you a question, dear,” Fred’s asked, trying to make his voice sound menacing and doing a decent job.

“Well, _dear_ , one thing I’m certain of—you’ll come up with another way to further defile my temple, since you’re hell-bent on trying to break me. Although, you’re really letting your misogynistic tendencies rule you, Fred. You used to attempt to hide your true feelings by pretending to be respectful of women and honoring them. Now you just reek of a boy with intense mommy issues who needs to control and hurt women to keep his manhood intact.”

“Do you think I care what you think?” Fred said, spitting into her bathwater. “Your stupid move in front of the Commanders did you much more harm that it did me. They feel sorry for me that I have such an unruly wife. Which is why I have to show them that I have you under my control.”

“Really? And what did you have in mind?” Serena asked, sounding bored. _I will kill this mother-fucker in his sleep—I swear._

“You’re going to put on a special performance in front of the Commanders this afternoon,” Fred said. “You’re going to wear your humblest dress, you’re going to look contrite as fuck, and you’re going to beg my forgiveness and their forgiveness, on your fucking knees. You’re going to say that your behavior was 100% unacceptable, and that it will never happen again, and that you let the strain of having your baby kidnapped get to you, and it made you forget, for just a moment, your proper place in God’s plan as a servant to me and to the Sons of Jacob, to do my will, and their will, which is in fact, God’s will. And you will from this day forward, encourage and lead all the women of Gilead to do the same.”

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” Serena said, looking at him directly for the first time since he walked into her bathroom.

“No Serena—I do not hate you. You and I are a unit in Gilead, and we both know that our rank in society is fairly dependent on the other. And you’re making my stock plummet. You’re making me look like a stupid fucking moron who doesn’t know what’s going on in his own house. A moron who didn’t notice his wife organizing the other wives in a rebellion that of course, we quickly squashed. I’m trying to keep myself alive, and you too. A Commander with an executed wife gets benched and banished, and loses all the perks of the job. I don’t want that to happen—and you’re going to help me make sure that it doesn’t.”

“Begging’s not really my style, Fred. And why on earth would I allow you to force me to beg forgiveness on my knees for something you and I both know wasn’t wrong.”

“That’s not the point!” Fred screamed, his frustration and anger growing. “It’s not about right or wrong anymore—it’s about dead or alive. And you will not take me down, and I will not let you take yourself down.”

“Let’s say for the sake of getting you the fuck out of my bathroom that I go along with your plan. What do I get in exchange?” Serena said.

“If you put on the performance of your life this afternoon, I will let the Handmaid stay. I won’t finish filling out Offred’s transfer form, shipping her so far away from her we never have to worry about what fresh hell she will bring upon us.”

Serena sighed. “That’s not an incentive. If you remove Offred, you remove the only person that has any connection to my daughter, and may one day help me get her back.”

“And you’re fond of her.”

Serena’s blood ran cold. _He knows._

Serena laughed out loud. “Oh you have truly lost your mind, Fred. How many times have I backhanded her and knocked her into the next day? I’ve imprisoned her in her room for weeks at a time—I even choked her until her face turned blue. Yep, I’m real fond of that surly fucking Handmaid who has literally ruined my life and yours and almost gotten us hung on the wall how many times? She holds the Handmaid record for most attempted escapes. She doesn’t fucking learn—ever. She’s literally been my cross to bear the moment she stepped into this house. And if you think I don't see how you look at her lustfully at every possibly opportunity, you must think I’m stupid.”

Fred seemed to hesitate for a moment, wondering perhaps if he had misread the situation. _Serena does really seem to loathe June most of the time, and is barely able to be civil,_ he thought.

“If nothing else, the Handmaid you know is better than the Handmaid you don’t know,” Fred continued. If I take June out of this house, there will be another to take her place the next day, and I’ll make sure she is the most difficult, nasty, pathetic Handmaid available. It took you so long to just tolerate June—do you really want to start over? And we already know she’s fertile I could get her pregnant again. We might not get Nichole back, but we could have another child by Offred--our own little Bilhah.”

It took every ounce of self-control she had not to correct him—and choke him—she’d already told him Nichole wasn’t his, but he chose to believe his version of the fairy tale which had his sperm viable and his manliness intact.

“Fine Fred. If I agree, will you let me finish my fucking bath in peace? And leave the Handmaid where she is—the very last thing I need in this world is to break in a new one. A new one probably won’t live very long anyway—the first one didn’t. This Offred at least has stamina—she’s not weak,” Serena said dismissively. “What time does today’s performance start, dear?”

“I’ll send a car for you this afternoon. The meeting is at 2. Don’t be late, and remember—humble and contrite,” Fred said, leaning down to whisper in Serena’s ear. “You better make this look really good, Serena. They almost cut your fucking tongue out of your mouth last week. You’re lucky I talked them down to a finger.”


	14. Serena has no joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena gets ready for her big performance in front of the Commanders.

Serena submerged her head in the tub and kept it under as long as she could, wondering vaguely if she might be weak enough to kill herself today. Weak wasn’t really in her DNA, so just at the moment of no return, her head exploded up from the water, and she inhaled deeply, replenishing her lungs with air. She laid back in the tub for a few minutes, trying to calm herself, because she was very, very angry. She closed her eyes and tried to take herself somewhere happy—like the first time she ever held Nichole, and she was mesmerized by her soft skin, and her sweet lashes that protected her eyes as they stayed closed, not ready to face the harsh light of the world. How she would sit with her in the rocking chair, and sing to her softly, treasuring every single moment with her daughter, almost as if she knew she wouldn’t have her for very long. Serena let out a long breath, and stood up, wrapping her hair in towel, and grabbing a second towel to start drying herself off. An utter lack of patience made this process much quicker than it usually was. Apparently, she had somewhere to be at 2 o’clock.

Fred had chosen to play the bully while she was naked and vulnerable, and ruined what should have been a lovely, peaceful bath, where she replayed last night in her head and maybe got herself off once or twice. No chance of that with the Commander Coward pulling the strings—for the moment.

_So I have to repent, on my knees, in front of that group of self-righteous, pitiful, impotent, sterile band of brothers, and promise to be a good little wife from now on and promise to pull all the other wives back in line, while I’m at it. I swear to God, I will kill that little fucker before I leave here._

Rage was one of Serena’s trademark characteristics. To say she had trouble controlling it was an understatement. The only thing that kept her from flying out of that tub and going for Fred’s throat was the knowledge that if she could control herself—if she could just keep up appearances for 9 more days— then she and June would escape this place and never look back. _Living well is the best revenge, they say, and when Fred figures out that June and I have flown his gilded cage together, he’ll have that to suck on for the rest of his life._

Serena wrapped the towel around her body, walked out of the bathroom, and made her way to the door that led to the hallway. “Offred! Get down here this instant!” she bellowed. _Just like old times,_ Serena said, her mouth in a tight line. _But I can’t treat her any differently than I normally do, and normally I’m an atrocious bully to her, so I have to keep up appearances. It’s going to be an adjustment when I live in the real world and have to try to be nice all the time._

Serena listened for the sound of June’s footsteps. Finally, just before she was ready to scream for her again, she heard her very slow, measured steps making their way down the stairs. When June came into view, her head was bowed, and insolence was coming off her body in waves. _Good girl,_ Serena thought, pleased that June was doing her part to act like her normal, surly self.

“Yes, Mrs. Waterford? How can I help you?” June said, smirking at the sight of Serena still wet from her bath and standing in the hallway in nothing but a towel.

“Get in here, now!” Serena said, glowering at June as she grabbed her arm and yanked her into the room as she slammed the door behind them.

June looked at Serena, maintaining her normal, Handmaid demeanor. Serena’s rage was real, and she wasn’t quite certain what was going on, so she played it safe and stayed in her role as Offred for the time being.

“I’m going to need you to help me get ready this morning. The absence of my finger is making everything a thousand times harder than it needs to be, and my patience is about as thin as it’s ever been,” Serena said, her tone seething with rage, while her eyes pleaded with June to understand and go along with her.

“Whatever I can do to help,” June replied, her voice calm in the hopes that it might help Serena wind down. _Something has happened in the time that she left my bed and right now, and it was not good,_ June thought.

“I’ll need you to comb my hair out and dry it, and rebandage my fingers. Oh, and I have to wear my most raggedy, humble dress with a hair shirt underneath for extra pain and suffering, so maybe you can help me pick out a suitable ensembled,” Serena said, her voice resigned.

“Certainly Mrs. Waterford. Why don’t you sit down in your chair, and I’ll take care of your hair first, then the finger, then we’ll get you all gussied up for whatever big date you have planned,” June said.

“Fine. Thank you, Offred,” Serena said, as she let her towel drop and walked over to her closet to put her robe on.

June’s eyes were glued to the beautiful, angry, and very sexy woman who was literally parading her body around naked in front of her.

“You know, Mrs. Waterford, for a woman of your age, you’re very well kept,” June said, smirking.

“You are going to pay for that, June,” Serena growled in a barely controlled whisper.

“What? I paid you a compliment, Mrs. Waterford! You are very attractive for a woman of your years,” June said, again pushing her luck.

“Enough!” Serena screamed, grabbing June by the arm and pulling her close. “I need to talk to you about something, so can we please maintain our cover?” Serena whispered urgently. “Apparently, the ice I’m standing on is way thinner than either of us thought, and I need to tell you what just happened.”

“Of course, Mrs. Waterford. I apologize,” June said contritely and motioned to Serena to take a seat. She towel-dried Serena’s hair as much as possible, and then began combing it out, taking special care not to pull on any tangles. _No need to poke the tiger._

While June continued to comb her hair, Serena filled her in on Fred’s latest offensive move.

“You have got to be kidding me!” June exclaimed. “And of course you have to go along with this public humiliation so he thinks you’re back in line.”

“Something like that,” Serena said looking away.

“What else—what are you not telling me?” June asked.

“I don’t want you to worry, ok?” Serena said, looking at June. “He sort of threatened to reassign you if I didn’t cooperate.”

“Ok, well that explains the half-filled out form I found,” June said. “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

Serena turned so that she was looking directly at June. “He said, ‘I know you’re fond of her’, in that creepy fucking voice of his, dripping with inuendo.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right,” Serena said. “Inwardly, I was ready to pass out, but outwardly, I laughed in his face and reminded him how much I loathe you and have from the moment you arrived here—how I tried to choke you to death and beat the shit out of you on a regular basis—how I locked you away in your room for weeks at a time--how I…”

“I get it Serena—I had a front row seat to the main event, and I have the scars to prove it,” June said evenly. “Move the fuck on with the story.”

“I know I’m going to be apologizing and trying to make it up to you every day for the rest of my life, and I’m sorry right now if I was insensitive and made you relive things you’d rather forget.”

June continued to glare at Serena with a very pissed off look.

“Right. Moving the fuck on,” Serena continued. “I convinced him that you were pretty much a giant pain in my ass since the day you got here, but that you hold the key to Nichole, so it was a weird thing to threaten me with. He looked a little confused for a moment, like maybe he was wrong about something going on between us, so he reminded me how horrible it is to break in a new Handmaid, and that he’d be sure to pick out a Handmaid three times worse than you, and the Handmaid you know is better than the Handmaid you don’t, yadda, yadda, yadda. We came to an agreement and he reminded me to put on the performance of my life this afternoon, and finally stormed out of my bathroom. I proceeded to try to drown myself, and when that didn’t work, I fantasized about killing him for a few minutes before I yelled for you to come downstairs.”

“I’m glad you two had such a productive conversation,” June said. “And really, I’m sorry about all of this—I’m really sorry. Gilead loves its public humiliations, doesn’t it?”

“Well, at least this one doesn’t have me swinging on the wall,” Serena said, moving to her closet to pick out a dress for the ‘festivities’. “And, if he keeps his promise--and he might--we won’t have to worry about you being transferred for the moment. But I’m not going to lie--9 days seems like a really long time right now. “

“It’ll be ok, no matter what,” June said. “Now, let’s get you dressed—do you have any of those black-market red lace panties you want to put on under your dress—just to be a little extra defiant?”

“Interesting strategy, but I think not,” Serena said, selecting her most modest and plainest dress and laying it on the bed. “I’m just going to try not to get my tongue cut out today, or get killed. I think that’ll be a full agenda.”

“Do you want me to help you pin your hair up or anything?” June asked.

“If you could bandage my finger up so that it’s somewhat protected, I’ll be able to put my own hair up,” Serena said. “Thank you for helping me. I hate needing help, which is why screaming at you seems to help a bit.”

“I knew that part wasn’t an act!” June said chuckling as wrapped a bandage around Serena’s pinky. “Your tone did actually make my skin crawl, as it generally does when you’re storming through the house looking for a puppy to kick. It makes my feet move impossibly slow, like I’m walking through cold molasses.”

“And I thought it was just part of your natural born insolence,” Serena said. “Alright, I think I’m good—I’ll just finish getting ready and sit around being a Commander’s Wife for an hour or so until the hearse comes to get me to take me to the meeting. You can go be a Handmaid for the rest of the day, and with any luck at all, I’ll return in one piece and when we wake up tomorrow, we’ll only have 8 days left to endure here.”

“Do you think your plan will work, Serena?” June asked quietly. “I mean, we’ve both got a lot riding on this—and with Hannah—well, I just need this to work.”

“Me too. I made so many terrible mistakes, and Gilead is without a doubt, the biggest. I don’t know how I could have been so fucking stupid. But I have plenty of time to beat myself up later—when we’re out of here. And don’t worry June. The plan is solid, and I have a number of built in contingencies. I can’t promise it will work, but we have a really, really good shot at freedom. Now give me a kiss and get out of here. And be sure to look good and surly when you talk to Rita next, so she doesn’t suspect anything.”

June kissed Serena tenderly, and said, “You can do this Serena—just remember why you’re doing this.”

 _And who I’m doing this for,_ Serena thought.


	15. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena apologies to the Council of Commanders for her behavior and awaits further punishment.

Serena waited in marbled hallway, flanked by two beefy Guardians with bad attitudes and low IQs. They told her to sit down on one of the chairs outside the Commander’s meeting room. She wanted to argue with them--just for the sake of arguing--but at this point in time, the mighty Serena Waterford’s stock price was pretty low. She might be able to storm around in other areas of Gilead and terrify Guardians, Aunts, and Eyes alike—but not here, and not now.

 _Well, like Fred said, this has to be the performance of my life. Nothing more than what I’ve been doing every, single, solitary day since this forsaken place was formed_ , she thought.

After waiting an hour and 17 minutes exactly, one of the Guardians opened the door for her and motioned her inside. Fred was waiting inside the doorway for her.

“Are you ready to gag on your humility, my love?” Fred asked, sneering.

“Reporting as ordered, darling,” Serena replied sweetly.

“You don’t have to worry about improvising,” Fred explained. I’ll be directing the flow of your apology. When I motion my arm downward, you get on your knees and look contrite. Then when I cue you, you go into your speech. When I motion my arm upward, you may rise, but you must keep your head bowed. Speak only when you are spoken to, and if any of the Commanders ask questions, well, you’ll know how to handle them. Swallow every ounce of pride and get this done, Serena. Now let me look at you—good, not too much make up, this dress is pretty dowdy—did you pull it out of some other wife’s garbage can? I can’t imagine this number was sitting in your pretty closet.”

“Could we please get on with it, Fred? I’ve got some knitting I’m dying to get back to,” Serena said. “Oh wait, I can’t knit yet with my missing finger.”

“You did that to yourself, my love. Now let’s roll.”

Fred escorted Serena in front of where all the Commander’s sat in a semi-circle and began the performance.

“Gentleman, if I could beg your indulgence for a few moments, my wife would like to make a formal apology to me, and to all of the council members on her recent recalcitrant behavior,” Fred explained. “Only, of course, if you will allow her to do so. My wife is aware that she’s already taken up too much of our precious time with her impertinent and combative behavior.”

“Please, Mrs. Waterford,” Warren said, cordially. “We recognize you and pray that you proceed with what you’d like to say.”

Serena looked at Fred and saw that he had dropped his arm down. Ignoring his cue, Serena stood where she was and began to speak.

“Gentleman, I’ve come to humbly ask for your forgiveness for my recent abhorrent behavior. It was wrong, and I have no excuse other than recent events in my personal life having taken an emotional toll on me. That’s the only thing I can think of that would have made me publicly violate one of Gilead’s most sacred laws. Although some of my friends initially supported me, they had no idea I was going to read aloud from the Bible, and I alone am responsible for that act—please blame no one else but me. I can only hope that my punishment, which was so justly and mercifully delivered, will be satisfaction enough for you all, so that I can resume my place by my husband’s side, as his home-maker and mother of his child.” Serena bowed her head and kept it down, and then got down on both knees to make her point that she was contrite.

“Thank you, Mrs. Waterford,” Andy said. “We appreciate that it was not easy for you to come today, but we are all very glad that you did. After your stunt the other day, we weren’t sure how deep into a rebellion you stood. These days, with rebels around every corner, it’s a bit unnerving when it shows up on our own home turf, as it were.”

“Yes, Mrs. Waterford, we are glad to see you come to your senses,” Steven said. "Although I believe, and some of my colleagues agree, that you might benefit from some retraining.”

Serena said nothing, and continued to look humble and contrite. Warren stepped in to rescue her, knowing that Naomi would have his balls for supper if he didn’t protect her best friend. “I think Serena has learned her lesson, and Fred has the situation well in hand. I don’t think we’ll need to worry about her stepping out of line again—particularly since she knows next time, it will involve more than just a finger.”

Serena still stayed as still as possible, kneeling and biting her tongue so hard the blood was flowing in her mouth and she had no choice but to swallow it.

“Fred, take your wife outside while we confer,” Steven said. “Mrs. Waterford, we won’t be but a few moments, if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside.”

Serena stood, and bowed her head in acknowledgement, and allowed one of the Guardians to escort her out to the hallway. She did not sit, but chose to pace, and the Guardians watching her didn’t force the issue, but never took their eyes off her for a moment. _I’m one woman—why are they treating me like a fucking terrorist? Serena thought incredulously. These so-called men—they can’t handle the slightest bit of dissent among their ranks. Their responses to even the slightest of infractions reek of over kill, but that’s just a sign of insecurity,_ Serena thought. She would kill for a cigarette, but pulling out one of her black-market life-savers wouldn’t be a good move for her right now.

As the minutes, turned into an hour, and an hour turned into two, Serena went from nervous, to annoyed, to enraged, and now she was just bored. _They’re going to do whatever the fuck they’re going to do to me, and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop them_. _I don’t have many allies in that room, and if the gang decides they want to make an even bigger example of me, then that’s what will happen. I did what I did, and I’ll pay whatever additional price they think they need to extract from me._

Another 30 minutes passed, until Fred finally came out and sat next to her, saying nothing, and looking down at his feet, with his hands clasped in front of him.

Serena exercised supreme control, and said nothing, determined to wait Fred out.

“Aren’t you going to ask what the Commanders have decided to do to you?” Fred asked, raising his head and looking at her.

“I assume you’ll tell me whenever you’re ready to, Fred. I realize you hold all the cards right now. I’m just here to accept whatever punishment that you and the others believe is right,” Serena said, doing her best to keep up her contrite demeanor.

“There was quite a bit of spirited discussion. A significant number of the members wanted you sent to some special training for renegade wives that the Aunts have cooked up,” Fred explained. “Then there are the husbands of your friends, who made significant emotional appeals about the tremendous amount of strain and stress you’ve been under over the past two years. Their thought was that you’d been through enough already, and the loss of your finger was significant to someone of your stature. That, coupled with your significant contributions to Gildead society was definitely in your favor.”

“And then,” Fred said smiling, “they decided to let me be the tie-breaker. Which is not an enviable spot, to be truthful. If I go soft, they’ll think I’m sympathetic to your rebellious nature. If I go too hard on you—well, there’s no real down-side for me, except that some of my fellow Commanders will suffer untold miseries that their wives will inflict upon them—it might even foment a real rebellion of the wives, which we just don’t need.”

“Fred, this all started because I wanted our girls in Gilead to be able to read the Word of our Lord. To understand it. To take it into their hearts, like I got to. I just feel we are raising a generation of ignorant, future heathens, for without the Word, how can anyone grow in the love and mercy of our Lord?” Serena said, trying to appeal to whatever vestiges of godliness Fred might still possess.

“You might have gotten your way, you know--if you’d enlisted me as an ally, rather than your enemy. If you hadn’t actually read from the book to make your point. You’ve always been so fucking dramatic, Serena,” Fred said, shaking his head.

“Fred, just tell me—are you chopping off my hand, gauging out an eye, or perhaps you’re just going to go for the gold and hang me up on the wall. What’s my fate?”

“We’ve decided to put use your God-given skills of motivational speaking to work,” Fred explained. “You’re going on tour. You’ll be speaking to the women of Gilead about how evil it is to read and write. How it’s critical to the success of our society as a whole, that women focus their entire lives and attention to having babies, making babies, caring for babies, raising babies, making a nice home where babies live—it’s all about the babies. Women must completely sublimate their desires and push everything to the side, to do God’s work, as a woman. And in God’s place for women, there is no reading. Reading is evil. You will tell your story. About how once the written word was your whole world—and it was an empty one. Until you gave it all up, for the greater good—for a society where nothing is more important than bringing new life into the world. You’ll speak to groups of Wives, Handmaids at the Red Center, Econowives—even girls who are very young and impressionable. You will convince them, in your own special way, and with all the passion that burns inside of you, that they need to devote themselves to being Godly and respect their roles in society. And if you’re a big hit, we’ll take you on the road—you’ll go to Washington, and what was once New York, and Chicago if we ever manage to put down their rebellion.”

Serena listened to Fred’s outrageous brand of punishment with no expression on her face. When he finished, she said “All right.”

“That’s it? All right?” Fred asked incredulously. “My outspoken wife has nothing to say on this matter.”

“No Fred. I’m grateful for your mercy and your wisdom,” Serena said contritely. “Now, would it be all right if I went home now? It’s been a long day.”

“Certainly dear. I’ll have our driver take you home so you can get some rest,” Fred said, pulling her close. “I hope you appreciate the fact that I just saved your life…again.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you. I do appreciate it very much. I’m grateful that you find me worthy of your mercy,” Serena said, smiling sweetly.

“That’s the right tone—see that you keep it, and manage your fucking temper.”

“Yes Fred. I certainly will,” Serena said. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“No. We have meetings until very late into the night,” Fred said, looking away. “I might even sleep on the couch in my office.”

“Very well, Fred. I hope you have a productive rest of your day, and thank you again for your mercy. I surely don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you,” Serena said and she walked down the hallway, flanked by a guard, and left the building. The guard led her to the car, and the driver opened the back door for her and climbed in. She waited until the door had closed and the car started driving before she lit a cigarette, and enjoyed a much-needed hit of nicotine. There was really nothing quite like smoking to calm her frayed nerves. _Ok, there was one other thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love, love love to hear your thoughts on this story, Serena and June in general, and anything else Handmaid's tale related. I am living in a vacuum at the moment, just trying to carve out time every day to devote to this marvelous pair. I am rewatching Season one and I am making note of all the times Serena touched June when she didn't have to. It's pretty significant. Serena had to turn herself into a cold, heartless person to play her role, but once in awhile, the real person slips out. And June is just plain bad ass. 
> 
> I appreciate everyone who is taking the time to read the story. I am so energized by these two fucked up creatures. Stay safe and keep reading fan fic. I truly believe it is what is getting me through all this.


	16. Vodka and Cigarettes

Serena walked into the house by way of the front door and went straight upstairs to her room. She hung up her cloak in the closet, peeled off her dress, balled it up, and tossed it onto the floor of the closet, intending to burn it tomorrow. She walked into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and set the water temperature to just short of scalding. She shrugged out of the rest of her clothing and left the pile on the floor. She stood under the pounding water, and let the tears she had held back finally fall. She placed her injured hand against the shower wall to keep it from getting wet, and she allowed the water to cascade over her skin. She was beyond tired. The shower was doing its best to burn the nastiness of the day away, and she was starting to feel almost human. She had to do a lot of compartmentalizing to get through today, and that shit takes a toll.

 _Kneeling in front of those bastards—unbelievable._ Even for Fred, it was a low blow to strike when she was already down. Losing her finger was pretty traumatic, and although she was working on acceptance, it was fair to say that she was pretty stuck in the anger phase. So today’s little performance might have broken a lesser woman. But not Serena. She was pretty sure she was un-fucking breakable.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped her hair in a towel, and dried herself off with another. If this were a different time and place, she’d definitely be wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, and maybe some fuzzy socks—anything to feel warm and safe. She’d binge watch a few documentaries for entertainment, smoke at least a pack of cigarettes, and and definitely drink a couple of bottles of wine.

But that was in another world, a lifetime ago. She has few creature comforts to turn to in Gilead, and has to make-do. So she put on her most comfortable nightgown and topped it off with her well-worn blue sweater that had seen better days. She wished that she was tired enough to go to sleep right away, but she knew that wasn’t very likely, so she opened her closet and searched along the top shelf, and found a bottle of vodka that she’d stashed away for just such an emergency. She had to be careful that she didn’t’ get drunk. She had to keep her wits about her for lots of reasons, mainly because she wasn’t sure when operation ‘get the hell out of Gilead’ was going to launch into high gear. Although 10 days is a pretty short time to get everything lined up, she’d gone through enough scenario planning to know that it was definitely possible, and if the fates aligned, it could be sooner. _But probably not tomorrow or the next day,_ she thought as she poured herself three fingers of vodka into a rocks glass that she also had stashed away.

She took her glass over to her most comfortable chair, sat down and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke out of the right side of her mouth. She sat in the dark, smoking several cigarettes and pouring herself another two fingers, until her rage cooled, and her brain took on that lovely alcohol-induced fuzziness that she allowed herself to enjoy. To be without worry, even if just for a few moments, was sublime.

She used to try to meditate to get to this place of peace, but she learned that there is no peace to be had here. The only happy people in Gilead are mentally deficient. And since mentally deficient people are shipped out to the colonies or otherwise disposed of, that pretty much means everyone in Gilead is miserable. The only exception were Handmaids. So many of them were unstable. _Small fucking wonder,_ Serena thought. _We rip them away from their husbands and children, strip them of every shred of dignity, indoctrinate them to rules and regulations of our society, and we wonder that they try to run away, or kill themselves. If they’re not stable, we keep them around, because there are just too few wombs capable of bearing children. And here I go, thinking again...well the peace was nice while it lasted._

Serena took another long drag off of her cigarette, tilted her head backwards and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. Her shoulders were ridiculously tight, and no amount of liquor was going to fix that. Her thoughts turned to the times when June had run away. _Wait, no! Is this what my life is going to be like? Drinking alone, and musing on what a sadistic fuck I’ve been for the past 8 years? How I’m emotionally and physically obsessed with the woman I’ve kept captive and abused for over 2 years? Or is leaving Gilead going to magically erase all the shitty things I’ve done._

Serena lit another cigarette off of the end of the one she was just finishing, and stamped out the glowing tip. She really hated thinking too much about things, so she resolved to stop it. It was hardly worth it. If she thought too much anything, she became filled with despair and self-hatred. No amount of talk-therapy and medication would every help her accept what she’d done and process it all, and move on and have a normal life. It was easier to get through the day when she didn’t indulge in significant amounts of self-reflection.

Truly, the only way she could go on was to put one foot in front of the other, and simply “do better”, from this day forward. And that’s what she’d done—not consistently, but when she let June take her daughter out of Gilead, she showed herself something she never knew—that she had the capacity to make a great sacrifice, without a thought to her own wants and needs. _Perhaps there is some redemptive value in my sacrifice. And if anyone was ever in need of redemption, it’s me._

She stubbed out her last cigarette of the night, washed out her glass in the bathroom and returned it along with the bottle of vodka to its rightful hiding place. Then she brushed her teeth, poured herself a large glass of water and left it on her nightstand. Her head was going to hurt tomorrow, and she really didn’t give a damn.

She took off her sweater and laid down in the cool, soft sheets, enjoying the feeling of pulling the covers up to her chin. She vaguely wished June would materialize in her bed, but knew that she was too drunk and too exhausted for anything more than aimless stroking of skin and passing out, followed by some impressive snoring. Not very sexy.

As Serena drifted off into what she prayed would be a deep, restful sleep, she reminded herself that when she woke up, it would only be 8 more days until she could get the fuck out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love the way she looks when she smokes...


	17. It's a Muffin Morning!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena eats breakfast and butters up more than her muffin.

The next morning, Serena was up early. She had managed to stay alive in Gilead another day, and that was something to be grateful for. She dressed quickly, put a bit of make up on, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Rita,” Serena said smiling. “I trust you’ve been well? I apologize for being a bit absent lately, but things seem to have righted themselves, and we’re back to our normal routine—isn’t that a blessing?”

“Y..y.. yes, Mrs. Waterford,” Rita said nervously. “Praise be. Would you like breakfast today?”

“That depends. Is Mr. Waterford still here, or has he left for the day?”

“I haven’t seen him yet today.”

“All right then, I’ll take coffee and toast in the dining room before I tend to the plants.

“I made muffins this morning—I thought maybe you might like something different, since you haven’t been eating very much lately,” Rita said, almost shyly.

“Is that what smells so good? That sounds delicious and a lovely surprise to start the day, Rita,” Serena said sincerely as she smiled and walked towards the dining room.

Rita poured a cup of coffee, plated a muffin, and brought it to Serena. Rita hovered a bit, and waited until Serena took her first bite. “It’s absolutely delicious, Rita. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Waterford. It’s my pleasure,” Rita said as she scurried off to the kitchen, wanting to say more, but not wanting to press her luck. _What is it about this woman that makes me want to please her? She’s usually so impossible, but once in awhile, the stars align and I hit one out of the ballpark for her and I feel like a million bucks. This place is fucked up beyond belief,_ Rita said, huffing as she turned her attention to checking on the bread that was baking in the oven.

Fred entered the kitchen at that moment and greeted Rita. “No breakfast for me this morning, Rita. I’ve got an early meeting, and I’ll be home very late as well, so no need to save me any dinner. Have you seen Mrs. Waterford?”

“Yes sir, she’s having breakfast in the dining room,” Rita said.

“Wonderful. Have a pleasant day,” Fred said as he walked over to the dining room. “Good morning, dear,” Fred said as he leaned down to place a dry kiss on Serena’s cheek. “I trust you slept well last night?”

“Yes, thank you Fred. I did. And thank you so much for all that you did for me yesterday—and really all week. I’ve had some time to reflect on my behavior, and I’m not sure how I got off the righteous path, but I can promise you that my head is on straight, and I know what I need to do. I’m going to spend the day gardening—it always makes me feel closer to God, when I’m tending to the earth and doing my part to make Gilead beautiful. Is there anything you need me to do for you today?” Serena asked, laying it on very thick. Fred was lapping it up like a kitten with a saucer of milk.

“Well, I must say, I’m delighted to see that you’ve come to a place of acceptance, Serena. I knew you would. You’re a survivor, and one of Gilead’s treasures. We need you.”

“I did want to ask you when you think this “speaking tour” might start? I need a bit more time of self-reflection to give thought as to what my messaging will be. It may take me a bit of time, since I can’t write my thoughts out, but I’m sure I can manage.”

Fred looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes, I suppose it will be hard for you to give speeches off the cuff so to speak. I hadn’t thought of that, but if anyone can do it, you can. We won’t have time to put together an agenda and tour schedule until a few weeks after the Chinese trade delegation leaves—it’s literally all we are working on—there are so many logistics. We need a lot from them, and they are tough negotiators.”

“You’re just as tough a negotiator, Fred. I have no doubt, you’ll do what’s best for Gilead. And knowing that I have time to structure my messaging is a big relief,” Serena said. _And then there’s the fact my finger has been sliced off…I’m going to need a minute. And with any luck whatsoever, I’ll be long gone before the Chinese delegation even gets here._

“Of course, my dear. Take the time that you need. We’ll all be very busy making the trade deal happen. I’ll check in with you on your thoughts after they leave.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you so much, Fred, for your generosity and kindness,” Serena said. _I still want to kill this prick before I go, and I’m going to see if that can possibly be arranged._

“Well, I’m off. Have a lovely day tending to your plants, and ruminating about your speech,” Fred said as he took Serena’s injured hand in his and kissed the back of it. Serena held back a shudder that involuntarily arose, and smiled sweetly at her husband.

“Under his eye,” Serena said.

“Under his eye,” Fred responded as he walked to the kitchen and left by the back door.

 _Fucking weak prick,_ Serena thought to herself as she slathered butter on Rita’s muffin and took a huge bite. It was delicious, and Serena found she was pretty hungry, having been too angry and upset to eat much this week. Serena spent the next few minutes eating every bit of her muffin, and finishing her coffee. She rose from the table, went to the kitchen to thank Rita again and headed for the greenhouse. Before she left, she turned to Rita and said, “I think it would be nice if Offred got a break from her usual gruel and toast this morning—not that I encourage spoiling her, but things have been stressful here lately. If you could make sure she has one of your delicious muffins, I think that would be a nice thing to do for her,” Serena said, turning abruptly and walking out of the room. _That might have been too much._ _I need to be fucking careful. Normally, I don't give a fuck what 'Offred' eats unless she's pregnant. I need to curb my desire to take special care of June._

Resolving to be more careful of how she behaves towards the Handmaid in public, she made a mental note to perhaps yell at June in front of Rita later today—just for appearances sake. She put her cloak on and headed to the shed in the back corner of the yard where she kept all of her gardening tools and supplies. As she opened the door which had been deliberately left unlocked, she closed it behind her and started feeling underneath the lower shelf until she found an envelope. She looked over her shoulder to make sure she was not being watched and tore it open and began reading.

“The rose cutting from Mrs. Owen will be available 7 days from today. I’ll take care of taking of picking it up for you myself and will keep it safe until the time is right to transplant it. Gillian sends her regards, and can’t wait to see you in 8 days. She is hoping for good weather. It may be very hot when you leave to see her, so you should take every precaution. Gillian will meet you on 3rd and Vine at 2 pm—please bring your friend. Memorize this letter and burn it immediately. By the way, I’m jealous as hell, and I love you and you’re brave. And I can’t sign this, but you know who it is.”

Serena clutched the letter to her chest for a moment, feeling tremendous relief. The message was only vaguely encoded, and worded so as not to be incriminating, but she took no chances, and struck a match and lit it on fire immediately, holding onto it just until she felt her fingers get hot, then she dropped it to the floor and watched as it turned to ash. Time to do some gardening, Serena said, her face set with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love your comments so much! Please keep them coming! Feel free to leave them in any language--that's what Google Translate is for :)


	18. We've All Done Unspeakable Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June thinks about what it would be like to leave Gilead and try to have some sort of a life.

That morning, while Serena was in the greenhouse, June was in her room, pacing. She had no idea what the plan was, and she had zero control over it. _Well, I should be used to that by now. The last two times I escaped, I had no idea what the plan was, when it was time to leave, how long I would stay in a certain place, and who was coming for me next. I know it’s to keep the people helping us alive, but that didn’t actually work out so well last time, either._

June felt incredibly guilty about what happened to the young couple who sheltered her—somewhat unwillingly—the last time when she managed to escape the Waterford’s for 92 days. Aunt Lydia wasted no time in showing June how much her actions cost the people that helped her, and brought her to the wall to see what evil she had wrought. The bread truck driver was hanging there, and Aunt Lydia informed her that his wife was forced to become a Handmaid, and their child ‘adopted’ by one of the higher-ranking families. That one was going to be very hard to forget and forgive herself for. Honestly, she couldn’t bear to think about it and was going to need to put it into a box and shove it to the back corner of her mind if she were going to function.

_I’ve done some pretty unspeakable things here in Gilead—things that I would never do in my other life—the life I don’t live anymore and I’m not even sure that I can ever go back to. I really hope this escape works. I think I picked a good partner in crime. Serena is smart, cunning, and ruthless. And she’s pretty done with this place, and pretty done with Fred. I wonder if she’ll kill him before we go? I’d be down for that. But whatever--we just really need to get the fuck out of here._

Serena. June had made promises to Serena. Many promises, and big ones at that. When Serena said that June would say anything—promise anything—if only she would help her escape—she wasn’t wrong.

_Was I wrong to promise that she’ll always have a place in my life? Probably. Will I keep my promise? Most likely, but if she turns back into mega-cuntasaurous, I can’t promise that drop off and pick up with the kids will go smoothly, or that she's not going to be sleeping on the couch some nights._

June almost laughed out loud at the thought of raising her kids with Serena and being domestic. It was completely ludicrous that she and Serena were—what—lovers? She hadn’t expected the kiss, but maybe she laid the groundwork for it with all the hand-holding, hugging and comforting she was giving to Serena. _But the kiss started this fire. And the kiss happened after we struck the agreement, so it wasn’t even part of the deal. I made the promise voluntarily, and it was all my idea. But the way Serena kissed me after she agreed? It was like she was jumping off a cliff and just said 'fuck it'. And it sure knocked me on my ass. It was nothing that I was looking for, but now that we're in it, I have to consider things that I’d never considered before._

So as ludicrous as it sounded, that’s exactly what Serena felt like to her—a lover. The small things she would do for her, the flowers left on her bed, that ridiculous music box that she brought from her mother’s home that completely delighted her. It was a completely tone-deaf gift—a girl, trapped in a box, forced to perform a dance number every time someone turned the key--but she still liked it. She understood how awkward it was for Serena to show any kindness. There wasn’t a handbook or a roadmap to a Wife and a Handmaid having a sexual and emotional relationship. They didn’t have freedom to explore their feelings with each other—yet they were clinging to each other like life preservers adrift in a stormy sea, and nothing was going to make June—or Serena, she suspected—let go.

_Serena is risking everything—everything—for me and Hannah—and Nichole of course. And if she does that, although it can’t erase all of her sins and the bad shit she’s done to me, it does a whole lot to redeem her in my eyes. Getting Hannah back safe--with me--is everything._

June couldn’t even allow herself to think much about what a new life would look like, never mind one with Serena in it. Right now, she was blinded by lust and wanted nothing more than to fuck Serena and be fucked by Serena. But would those feelings translate outside of Gilead? Would she still want to be with Serena? Or maybe she would see her husband and fall instantly back in love with him? Would that sensitive man be able to put aside all the trauma that June’s been through and give her room and space to find her way—even if that meant she couldn’t be his wife anymore? And what kind of a relationship with a man—or a woman--would her psyche allow her to tolerate?

_And would it be so bad with Serena in my life? I’ve put up with her for this long—and I have to admit, she knows how to make this girl happy—in bed at least. But that temper is wicked. It will be nice to see her wearing a pair of jeans a maybe a worn out t-shirt, instead of those insufferable Wife get-ups. Maybe go for a ride in a car together. Like a road trip, where there are snacks and a cooler of drinks and loud music and long conversations, and whoever is the passenger sticks their feet out the window. And we would stop the car along the way and have a picnic and find a place to fuck outdoors. Maybe get a babysitter and go out to dinner and hold hands and look into each other’s eyes, and play footsie under the table until we can’t take it anymore and ask for the check and jump in the back seat of the car for a quick and necessary fuck because we still can’t seem to keep our hands off of each other. How long is that going to last outside of here? Or are we just doing this because we are ridiculously stressed and clinging to a slice of pleasure that we never planned on and don’t know if we can keep in the real world?_

June’s musings were halted by the sound of the birthing bell. That meant June had approximately 20 minutes to get herself together before the Birthing Mobile pulled up outside the house to take her and all the other Handmaids to the house where the expectant Handmaid resided. It was generally an all-day, and sometimes all-night affair, where they took turns holding the birth mother’s hand, chanting and praying for a healthy baby. That’s why there were all there, after all—healthy babies. And the Wives would be there as well—to support the resident Wife through a mock labor and delivery ritual that literally made June’s skin crawl. _I’m so glad I got stuck in a freezing cold mansion in the middle of nowhere and gave birth alone. Anything is better than those fucking rituals the Gilead sadists cooked up._

Serena would very likely be present at the birth—she hardly ever missed one, and this could be one of her last here. If she didn’t attend, it might look suspicious, and for that reason, June was fairly certain she and Serena would be spending the day and evening out of the house. _Maybe we’ll have a minute to talk, but I better not count on it._


	19. Solidarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Handmaids and the Wives converge on Commander and Mrs. Halstrom's home for the delivery of the baby, carried by Ofgary. Aunt Lydia goes too far.

The Birthing Mobile pulled up in front of Commander and Mrs. Gary Halstrom’s home. Aunt Lydia ushered the Handmaids in, two by two, in an orderly line, heads bowed, and hands tucked into sleeves. As the Handmaids crossed the threshold into the house, they placed their ‘wings’ on a table thoughtfully placed near the entrance for that purpose. The Wives were already there—somehow, they always arrived early. Probably because it was a very social event for them. There was always plenty of alcohol, and honestly, other than a few silly rituals with Grace Halstrom while they waited to see if the Handmaid would deliver a healthy baby or...not, it was basically a good time away from their boring lives. On the way up to the room set up for Ofgary's labor and delivery, the Handmaids walked past the sitting room where most of the Wives had gathered. June chanced a glance into the room and saw Serena, offering support to a very nervous Mrs. Halstrom. Their eyes met for a moment, and Serena nodded in June’s direction, and she nodded back. 

For a society with a ridiculously low birthrate, it was shocking to June that they didn’t take the Handmaids to the hospital for delivery, preferring to leave it all in God’s hands and rely on home births. She wondered vaguely how many babies might have been saved with a little medical intervention. Instead, Gillead was locked in a time-capsule, pretending that solutions to issues didn’t exist and relying on a vague notion of God that seemed pretty sketchy to June.

As they entered the room and took their places, it seemed that things were not going well from the start. Ofgary was sweating and screaming in pain, talking nervously and swearing. The Handmaids started praying and chanting to try to bring some calmness to Ofgary, but she was having none of it. Aunt Lydia sat beside her, holding her hand, trying to placate the girl, when all of a sudden, Ofgary yelled out “Get the fuck away from me, you sadistic cunt! You have no fucking idea how much this hurts!” The room went entirely silent, as the Handmaids were frozen in fear. The ball was in Aunt Lydia’s court now, and she was never one to delay punishment, regardless of the circumstances, and true to form, she did not disappoint.

“You think that you’re untouchable, because you’re in the middle of delivering a baby, don’t you?” Aunt Lydia asked in her sing-song voice. “You think you can get away with that level of disrespect, just because you’re in a stressful situation? Maybe another Aunt would let it pass…chock it up to the extreme pain and stress of delivering a baby. But me? No. There’s always a way to punish someone for their actions. Ofwarren, Offred, Oftim, and Ofandy! Line up right in front of me, single file! Quickly!”

The four Handmaids lined up in front of Aunt Lydia, all of them knowing what was about to happen. “You are right, dear. I can’t touch you right now, or punish you for your impertinence and disrespect. However, your fellow Handmaids are perfectly capable of taking your punishment for you, isn’t that right girls? All for one and one for all. Now Ofgary, which one of these four shall I hit with the cattle prod? Do you have a preference?”

Ofgary looked miserable and tried to apologize to Aunt Lydia. “I’m sorry Aunt Lydia. I was in pain and lashed out. I didn’t mean it! Please, don’t punish anyone because of me. Please!”

“Oh, so now you’re contrite, are you?” Aunt Lydia sneered. “Well, I’m not interested in your apologies. You will have some courage, and steel yourself for delivering this child, and I’ll not hear another verbal harangue come from your mouth—do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia,” Ofgary said. “But please—don’t hurt the others. It’s Birthing Day and they came to pray for the baby. Please don’t spoil the day.”

“Choose the person who will get punished—right now, or all of them will get it!” Aunt Lydia screamed.

“Offred! Punish Offred!” Ofgary said, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry Offred but she made me choose!”

June said nothing and stood there, waiting for her punishment. _I really hope I don’t pee myself like I did last time. This is going to be a long day, and I really don’t want to be sitting around in pee-soaked underwear--and of course, it will probably get into my boots._

“Offred! Come here to me please,” Aunt Lydia instructed. “Now tell me, do you deserve to be punished for Ofgary’s transgression?”

“Only you can say whether the punishment is just and deserved, Aunt Lydia. I will accept your decision as final,” June said, laying it on thick, hoping to hit Aunt Lydia’s sweet spot.

“That is a very nice answer, Offred. You may join the other Handmaid’s now—you will not be punished. Ofwarren! Oftim! Ofandy! On your knees!” Aunt Lydia bellowed, producing her freshly charged cattle prod seemingly out of nowhere. Apparently, she never traveled without it.

Ofgary screamed, “No, Aunt Lydia please! What are you doing? I didn’t want you to hurt the others! They’re my friends!”

“Precisely. I know for a fact that you and Offred have had next to no interactions since the Red Center when you both trained. You chose her because it would hurt you less if you chose someone that you didn’t care about as much. But you see,” Aunt Lydia explained, “that really doesn’t suit my purposes at all. I want to deter you from ever screaming obscenities or otherwise being disrespectful to me, or any of the Aunts, from this moment forward. Punishing Offred, who you aren’t close with, is not going to cut it, my dear. So now, you get to watch all three of your friends suffer for your disrespect to me.” Aunt Lydia shot each of the girls in the arm with 50,000 volts, dropping them to the ground while they twitched and suffered in pain, while the other Handmaids looked on in horror.

“Aunt Lydia! What are you doing?” Naomi Putnam shouted, striding into the room, flanked by several Wives. June was relieved to see that Serena was not among them. _She’s in enough hot water now…she needs to lay low until we get out of here._ “We heard the screams from downstairs! This is a sacred time for this family. We can’t have you defiling the sanctity of the birthing room.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Mrs. Putnam. You should return to the other Wives and support Mrs. Halstrom at this delicate time. Please, leave the Handmaids to me. They will recover within the next one or two hours.”

“There is a time and a place for everything, and this is neither the time, nor the place,” Naomi said, standing her ground. “Ofgary is in the middle of delivering a child—a precious child of God. Why would you want to subject her to witnessing you punishing these Handmaids? What could they possibly have done to deserve this today? Not to mention, you’re filling the Birthing room with violence and pain. What do you suppose that’s going to do to the poor baby?”

“It’s going to ready the child for the real world, Mrs. Putnam. The world we live in full of violence and pain, or haven’t you been paying attention!” Aunt Lydia screamed, drawing the rest of the Wives into the birthing room to see what was happening.

As she saw Naomi’s anger and outrage, and the rest of the Wives closing ranks, Aunt Lydia took stock of the situation. She had lost her temper, and she had to admit to herself that she might have taken the whole punishment thing a little far. And screaming at the Wife of one of the highest ranked Commanders...not a great career move. She could have just waited until after the birth, when it was reassignment time and send Ofgary to the worst possible Commander and Wife available at the time. _Perhaps the Waterford’s will be ready for a new Handmaid—they’d be perfect for her,_ Aunt Lydia thought.

“You know how important discipline is in keeping the Handmaids in good order,” Aunt Lydia explained smoothly. “But perhaps I could have chosen a different approach to punishing Ofgary than making her friends bear it in her place.”

In a rare show of support, each Wife went to stand next to their Handmaid, while the injured Handmaids were comforted by their assigned Wives. Serena came to stand behind June, put her hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, then dropped it to her side. June thought she was in the twilight zone— _what the fuck is happening here?_

“Yes, Aunt Lydia—I think you missed the mark here, Naomi said, seizing the momentum. “Perhaps you are over-worked and over-tired. Screaming at me and allowing violence and cattle prods into the birthing room are proof enough of that. Aunt Elizabeth, would you be so kind as to take over Aunt Lydia’s duties this afternoon? I’m sure between you and Aunt Sarah and Aunt Betsy, you can handle the birth and the Handmaids. And of course, you’ll need to file your report about Aunt Lydia’s behavior with your superiors which I’m happy to support.” Aunt Lydia looked dumbstruck as Aunt Elizabeth took her arm gently and led her out of the room, instructing the guard to call a car to take her back to the Red Center.

Naomi walked over to stand in front of the Handmaids and the Wives as they stood together in this most unusual show of solidarity. “What you do for us—the gifts and blessings you bring to our lives—is priceless. I want you to know that we appreciate you. We cannot possibly know the full depth of the sacrifices you make every day to serve Gilead and our families, but please know that we are grateful. Now, I suggest we turn our attentions to support Ofgary and Grace as the new bundle of love begins the journey of making its appearance. Blessed be the Fruit,” Naomi said, finishing her speech.

“May the Lord open,” replied the chorus of Handmaids and Wives. As they began to disperse, Serena whispered to June, “seems like everyone’s getting sick of the shit going on around here.”

“Under his Eye,” June replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Lydia is such a crazy character--I had to put her in here somewhere, and she makes quite an impression. I've always liked the Naomi Putnam character because she's kinda bitchy, so I gave her a lead role in this chapter. Enjoy.


	20. Scratching that Itch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just had to--no explanation other than they had to do something to pass the time...

Hours passed, and Ofgary suffered through labor surrounded by Handmaids in one room, while Grace, in her bright white nightgown, lay in another room on a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, surrounded by the other Wives. Serena was very attentive to Grace. She liked her—she was a good person—not too pious, but careful not to standout in any way. She had all of her fingers. She was always the first to send flowers or baked goods whenever someone’s house had some sort of tragedy. The Waterford’s had received more than one basket of pastry from her.

Serena was staying close to Grace in order to help her stay in character, which required a great deal of mental discipline, because her thoughts kept straying to June in the other room. It seemed like it had been forever since that night they shared in June’s bed, and her body was getting more than a little restless. Just thinking about June made her nipples harden, and she could tell that there was an embarrassing amount of moisture collecting between her legs. She tried to will herself to stop thinking about June, but she was ridiculously turned on, and it was really hard to focus on anything but the throbbing between her legs. She excused herself from Grace and the circle of women, and went to find the bathroom.

Once inside, she locked the door and pushed her body up against it, lifted her skirt and slid her hand inside her soaking wet panties, seeking the source of her distraction. She was so fucking turned on, she slid two of her blessedly long fingers inside, and fucked herself quickly and roughly, while her other hand fumbled under her blouse and grabbed her right tit, squeezing it hard and pinching the nipple through her bra. She imagined that June was hiding behind the shower curtain, stepped out, fell to her knees, and buried her head between her legs, devastating her pussy with her tongue. Her heart pounded as she moved her fingers to her clit, rubbing it fast and hard, imagining June’s tongue circling it and sucking on it. She heard June’s voice in her head whisper ‘Serena’, and that was all it took for her to fall over the edge, with her legs buckling, and her breath coming in great gasps. Before she had any time to recover, she removed her hand and washed it under the tap, and straightened her clothes, while still catching her breath. She checked the mirror to make sure she looked like her normal, dried out, bitter self and found herself lacking. _It’s really hard to look as miserable as I’ve been when I don’t feel that way—at least not all the time. Thinking about June makes me really happy—not to mention horny as fuck._ She splashed some water on her face, dried her hands, and turned the handle of the door, only to find June waiting for her on the other side.

“Mrs. Waterford,” June said politely.

“Offred,” Serena replied. “Sorry if I took too long in there. I had an itch I just had to scratch and it was in an awkward place.”

June swallowed hard and she felt her nipples stiffen. _She will be the death of me, I swear._ “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to assist you. I trust you were able to reach it and find some relief?”

“Yes, although it would have been nice to have your help.” Serena dipped her head down low to June’s ear to whisper, “I had to imagine you on your knees, licking my cunt, to get me over the edge.”

June groaned softly and she pushed her body up against the wall for support. “Are you feeling all right, Offred?” Serena asked, in a normal tone of voice.

“Yes, Mrs. Waterford, thank you,” June replied, taking a deep breath, standing up straight and adjusting her skirt. “It’s just a little tiring waiting for the baby to come—but the contractions are getting much closer together, so with any luck, we’ll be home in time to catch Jimmy Fallon.”

“Always with the jokes,” Serena said smiling just a bit. “I had to pick a funny Handmaid. And a sexy one, too,” Serena whispered into June’s ear.

“If you’ll excuse me Mrs. Waterford, I’m feeling a bit itchy myself, so I’ll just deal with that in private.”

“Blessed be the fruit.”

“May the Lord open,” June replied, and she watched Serena walk past her and down the hallway, giving herself a nice visual to start with. _This won’t take but a minute,_ June thought as she entered the bathroom and locked the door.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It took a few more hours, but by the time early evening rolled around, Ofgary had given birth to a small, but perfect little boy. Grace was overwhelmed and crying with joy, as the baby was cleaned up and brought to her waiting arms. Before she held him, she asked Ofgary if she would like to hold him first.

“Yes, please,” Ofgary said, as she held her son close to her body for a few minutes. “You are going to have a wonderful life, little man,” she said as she kissed his face softly, then handed the baby back to Grace. “Thank you, ma’am. That was very kind of you.”

Grace brushed the hair our of Ofgary’s face, and tucked it behind her ear. “Thank you, dear. Your gift is priceless, and I promise to love him enough for both of us.”

Although the exchange between Grace and Ofgary was quietly done, Serena heard every word and was very touched. _This is probably what they imagined would happen when they cooked up the whole Handmaid thing—this loving, orderly transfer of baby from surrogate to mother. But the reality is that Ofgary will be sad for quite some time, if she doesn’t get suicidal or violent and try to stab Grace and/or Gary in the throat._ They didn’t think about all the powerful emotions involved when they designed Gilead re-population strategy.

The Handmaids enveloped Ofgary in their arms as she wept openly, from relief that the baby was delivered, from grief that she’d already given him up, and probably a dozen more complicated emotions. After Ofgary was cleaned up and the bed was changed with fresh linens, Grace took her place in the bed holding the baby, and the Handmaids helped Ofgary to the room where she would stay to nurse the baby until she was reassigned to a new household.

The Handmaids and the Wives began to disperse--it had been a long day, and it was a relief to be finished with their respective responsibilities. There was a bit of time before their ride would show up, so the Handmaids enjoyed the refreshments that had been prepared for them, then picked up their wings and cloaks while they waited for the Birthing Mobile. Although it might have made sense for the Wives to give the Handmaids a ride back to the homes that they shared, that was only done in cases where there were exigent circumstances.

Serena had her cloak on and was ready to go, with her driver waiting, while the Handmaids were still waiting for their ride. “Aunt Elizabeth? Since the girls are still waiting for their ride, I’ll just take Offred with me—my driver is already here,” Serena said.

“Of course, Mrs. Waterford. Offred looks very tired from the day’s events, and it’s kind of you to think of her.”

“It’s nothing but expedience, but thank you,” Serena replied. “Offred, come along. I’ll give you a ride home.”

As they walked out to the car together, Serena whispered, “as much as I’d like to fuck you in the back seat, you’ll ride by yourself back there and I’ll be up front with the driver—no impropriety.”

“And no fun,” June said, slightly pouting.

“But we’ll get home faster. Come to my room when the house settles down. I think I have Fred under control, and I don’t expect him to bother me tonight.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Waterford,” June replied, trying very hard not to smile.


	21. Serena Just Can't Help Herself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Waterford rears her head again, and June is having none of it.

June was out of her mind with excitement that Serena invited her to her bedroom tonight. Too excited, truth be told, but that’s Gilead—a place of extremes. Rubbing one out in the Halstrom’s bathroom, right after Serena had just done the same, barely took the edge off. And she had been trying so hard to stay away from Serena, and not deliberately / accidentally running into her. The less they interacted, the less chance they had of blowing their cover. _When we get out of here, the first chance I get, I’m throwing Serena in a hotel room for a week, taking her clothes off, and hiding them for the duration. We are going to fuck, fuck, fuck, and then fuck some more, until we have exhausted ourselves and wrung every single ounce of pleasure out of each other’s bodies. Maybe then I will be able to think clearly and figure out how the fuck I’m going to make a life--with her in it--work for me and the kids._

June reminded herself that she needed to bring the maps with her to Serena’s room, and maybe get a little hint about when this is going to down, if not how.

June waited until the house was quiet, which was pretty early in the evening, since Rita always went to bed right after the dinner dishes were done, so she could get up at the crack of dawn to start all over again. She walked quietly downstairs, still wearing her Handmaid’s dress. She didn’t want to be trapped in Serena’s room in just her nightgown in case she had to make a quick exit. If someone knocked on the door, or tried to get in, she could always put her clothes on and Serena could play sick or something. June could use the excuse that she needed to take care of her.

She approached Serena’s door which was open. “Mrs. Waterford? May I come in?”

“Get in here, you pathetic excuse for a Handmaid!” Serena ordered, putting June off-balance. “And close the door!”

June did as she was told and turned to face Serena, who was sporting a very pleasant smile on her face.

“What the fuck, Serena? Why the bi-polar act? I’m the only one in hearing distance,” June whispered, her nose clearly out of joint.

“I have been slipping around the house, and I need to remind myself—and you—that the stakes are high, and it’s really important that I storm around the house and scream at you—often—just in case someone is listening. I can’t be sweet and nice, otherwise someone will be sure to notice and report it.”

“It’s a total buzz-kill, Serena. I was so ready to fuck you tonight, and you just turned me into a quivering mass of fear.”

Serena crossed the room to where June was standing. “How can I make it up to you?” Serena said, putting her arms around June’s shoulders and dipping her head down to place soft kisses along her neck.

“Not that way, that’s for sure,” June said, willing herself not to respond to her advances until she got the information she needed. “If you want to make it up to me, why don’t you take these maps that you wanted me to steal from you, and get them off my hands so I don’t get caught with them and lose a hand, or a foot or something. Then you could tell me when the fuck we are going to get out of here so I can have something to hope for.”

“Of course. Let me take those from you,” Serena said, picking up the maps from June and tossing them into the wastebasket.

“What the fuck Serena!” June said as loudly as she could without screaming and being overheard. “Why did you do that? Are you backing the fuck out of our deal, because if you are, I swear to God I will…”

“You’ll what, June?” Serena said, coldly.

June counted to 10. This made no sense. Serena has been so—not Serena--over the past few days. She thought they had an agreement—she thought she could trust her. But if she tossed the maps out into the trash, what could that possibly mean?

“I’m going to give you a moment to explain why you just threw those maps that you told me steal—from Fred’s office, which is off-limits—into the trash can. And make it fast, and make it good, because I’m on the edge.”

“So much for trust,” Serena said sighing. “And I had such high hopes for you, June. You seemed so sincere, but the minute something doesn’t make sense to you, you’re ready to threaten me—with what, by the way? Were you about to promise that I’d never see Nichole again?”

“I didn’t say that, Serena,” June said, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. “I walked into this room, ready to ravish your body and send you into orbit with my talented tongue. Instead of a warm, if not sexy, welcome, you scream at me in that Mrs. Fucking Waterford tone, which makes me the opposite of wet, and kinda freaks me out. Then you toss the maps in the trash with no explanation. So forgive me if I’m about to lose my shit because it seems like you have trashed our deal and you’re backing out of the agreement.”

It was Serena’s turn to count to 10, and in her case, she probably should count to 50. When she heard June start to threaten her, (and there really was only one thing she could threaten her with), she saw red. She never had a violent temper before Gilead, but well, take a girl’s creature comforts and livelihood away, and see what that does to an ordinarily pleasant person. She took deep, steady breaths, and remembered what she knew about the angry blond woman shaking in front of her—not just Offred the devious Handmaid--but June the woman who she cared a great deal for, and who she had let her see her at her most vulnerable, and trusted so many times. _Did I over-react again? Did she flip that switch that I can’t control—yet? I really need to get a handle on my emotions, because they turn me into the monster that I say I don’t want to be anymore—but I’m afraid I always will be._ As her breath steadied, and her heart rate decreased, Serena knew she had to fix this.

“I threw the maps away because we don’t need them. We never needed them. I just sent you to get them to give you something to do so that you would feel like you were helping. I know how you are—it’s hard to put all your trust in one person to take care of everything for you when you feel all alone with no help anywhere in sight,” Serena said sincerely.

“How are we going to know where we are going if we don’t know the route?” June asked, genuinely puzzled. “And why the fuck couldn’t you just have said that instead of tossing the maps into the trash without a word of explanation?”

Serena sighed. “June, I don’t know why I did that—I thought it would be funny, and clearly, I need to work on my delivery. I should have immediately told you that we don’t really need the maps because everything is set. We are leaving in 8 days from now. The plan is in place, the players have their parts and they are all well-rehearsed, and all we need to do is meet our escort on the appointed day and time.”

June was so angry at Serena for fucking with her like that--making her shake, with angry tears collecting and threatening to roll down her cheeks. “Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t walk back upstairs and get as far away from you as I can.”

“Because if you leave, you’ll miss the great make-up sex I have planned for you,” Serena said, earning herself a cold, hard stare—Offred-style.

“Nope—not a good enough reason to fuck with my head like that, Mrs. Waterford,” she said as she turned on her heel and stormed quietly up the stairs to her room.

 _Well, that didn’t go the way I planned,_ Serena thought, knowing she should go after June, but wanting to give her some time to cool down _. Why the fuck did I do that? Because I can? To get a rise out of her? Or was I really trying to hurt her because I can’t fucking stand wanting her as much as I do, and being powerless over my feelings. This was supposed to be a beautiful evening, filled with sex and celebration—we are one day closer to getting out of here. Instead, I went Mrs. Waterford on her, and now, unless I fix this, I’m spending another lonely night hating myself more than I already do._

Meanwhile, upstairs, a very pissed off June was stripping her clothes off, tossing them onto the floor, and running a bath. She was so angry she wanted to scream or break something, or punch a wall—something—anything to get these feelings out of her. _How dare she play with my emotions like that? Is this what life with Serena is going to be like, because I don’t fucking think so. Once we cross over out of Gilead territory, and she better be saying ‘yes June, of course June, whatever you say June, you decide June’ for the rest of her fucking life or the deal is off. And that hotel room I’m throwing her in for a week without her clothes? I’m tying her to the bed too, then I’m going to turn the television to MSNBC, go down to the bar for four hours and leave her like that—waiting--forced to listen to liberal pundits, while she prays for me to come back to the room and fuck her until she sees stars._

June lowered herself into the hot water, feeling some of the anger leech away from her body. She closed her eyes and submerged her head, holding her breath for as long as she could to try to conjure up an image of Hannah. It had been so long since she’d seen her—she felt so far away from her—this was the only way she could reach her sometimes. Finally, Hannah’s face came into June’s mind, and a calmness washed over her. She emerged from the water gasping for air, happy that she at least had the moment of connection—even if it was just in her head.

June laid back in the tub until the water got too cool for her taste. She heard noises in her room and she had a pretty good idea of who was in there, and she was going to take her sweet fucking time getting out of the tub. _If she thinks she’s going to play power trips on me like that and be a constant asshole, then we have a problem._

June dried her body off, then towel-dried and combed her hair. She brushed her teeth, picked up her discarded clothing form the floor, and marched into her room. There was no one there. She looked around the room, certain she’d heard someone in it earlier, when she spotted a piece of paper, folded in thirds, on her pillow. She hung her clothes up in the closet, slipped her nightgown on and climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged with her back up against the pillows. She held the letter in her hands, considering the emotions that drove Serena to commit a crime punishable by yet another amputation—just to get a message across to June. _She could have just sat here and waited for me, but no…she has to go dramatic and put herself at risk._

_June,_

_I don’t know what to say to you beyond I’m sorry. I want to tell you that I’ll never do something like that to you again—do something that I think is cute and you think is mean—but I can’t. Because we both know that I probably will, because I can be an idiot sometimes. But I can promise you that I will learn what is ok with you and what is not ok with you going forward. And messing around with important information that you need to have, and tossing something you worked hard to get, into the trash like it didn’t matter—like you didn’t matter—that’s definitely something I won’t be repeating—ever._

_June, I’m a monster. You know that. I know that. I don’t know why on earth you asked me to help you escape and agreed to let me share Nichole—and your life—with you and Hannah. I think I still have trouble believing it and trusting you that I am subconsciously trying to test you all the time. Using your desire for sex to try to control you, when it’s really you who controls me. I can barely control my desire for you, and it frightens me. But hey, I’m getting all psychoanalytical, when all I really want to say is that I am so very sorry, June. I will try, really hard, for the next 8 days at least, not to piss you off so substantially that you storm off, walking away from what I had hoped would be some much needed privacy for me to show you how I feel about you in the only language that you and I seem to speak fluently._

_Serena_

June reread the letter—several times. She wanted to be able to remember most of it, because she certainly couldn’t keep it. She’d have to burn it in the sink in a few minutes. As lovely a souvenir that a written apology from Serena Waterford would be, it was too dangerous. If anyone found it, Serena would lose her hand at the very least, and the two of them would be sent to the Colonies as gender traitors. She folded the letter back up and reached up onto the top shelf of her closet where she kept a spare pair of boots. She tipped one of the boots upside-down and a package of matches fell out. She walked into the bathroom, struck a match, and lit the bottom corner of the letter on fire, waited for the fire to consume most of the paper, then dropped it into the sink. It burned into a small pile of ashes, which she rinsed down the drain.

When she came back into her room, she found Serena sitting on her bed. “Hi,” Serena said quietly.

“Hi,” June said, making herself comfortable on the bed, cross-legged and looking directly at Serena. A long stretch of silence followed. If Serena thought that June would forgive her easily, she thought wrong.

Serena finally broke the silence. “I’m going to break my rule and tell you the whole plan, or as much as I can of it, because I trust you. And you deserve to know,” and she proceeded to tell June everything. By the end of listening to the very detailed and well-thought-out plan, June’s mouth was open, and her eyes were opened wide. The look on her face was incredulous. Serena waited in the silence while June assimilated the information.

June was mentally, emotionally and physically on overload. As Serena revealed her plan—her thorough, genius of a plan--all of her doubts and fears, her anger and frustration, dissipated into nothingness. She felt slightly guilty for having given Serena such a hard time, but then caught herself. _No, she can have a brilliant plan and still behave like a cunt to me and be responsible for her actions. I can’t let her off the hook that easily._

“Well?” Serena asked, no longer able to wait for a reaction.

“Well, what?” June said. “It sounds like a good plan.”

Serena wanted to scream at her and tell her it was more than a good plan—it was a brilliant fucking plan—and she should be grateful. However, a new, reasonable, internal voice that she had not heard in many years, spoke to her. _She’s been hurt. She’s been traumatized. You’ve been responsible for a lot of that hurt and trauma. She’s desperate to get out of Gilead and find her daughters. And the past week has been very stressful—for you, but for her too. She actually cares about you. You can cut her some slack, and stop being so ‘Mrs. Waterford’. Try being just Serena for once._

“Good. I’m glad you like it,” Serena said quietly. “And I know you’re very hurt and angry at me, and you have every right to be. If you want to unload some of it on me, I’ll do my best not to turn into the Hulk, and just listen to you.”

June could tell that Serena was contrite. She looked sad and nervous too—not sure what June was going to say or do next. She crawled over to where Serena was sitting, put her arms around her and held her—tightly, like she was afraid to let her go. Serena put her arms around June, closed her eyes and just enjoyed the moment of peace between the two of them. It was rare, and reminded her of the first time June took a chance and wrapped her arms around her—and it made all the difference.

“Are we ok?” Serena asked tentatively.

“I’ll give you the short answer for a change,” June said, releasing Serena and laying beside her, propped up on her elbow. “Just for today, we are ok. No promises on tomorrow. And by the way, I loved your letter. That was very daring of you to use a pen and paper—knowing what you risked,” June said, brushing the hair away from Serena’s face. “I hated to burn it, but we can’t take the chance of being shipped off to the Colonies before we have a chance to bust out of here, can we?”

“No, we cannot,” Serena said. “That would be a waste of a very fine escape plan.”

“So you’ve had this plan in place for years, haven’t you?” June asked.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, Ms. Osborne. But as soon as we are out of here, I will tell you anything you want to know. Hopefully, with a few bottles of wine, maybe a roaring fire, and nowhere to be for a week or two.”

“That sounds lovely—and I like the way you think,” June said. _I’m not telling her about the hotel room, the week without clothing and tying her to the bed—because that’s happening, and I want that to be a surprise._

“Is it time for make-up sex yet?” Serena asked.

“Not the most elegant segue, but I appreciate the directness,” June replied. “Yes, Serena. It’s time for make-up sex.”


	22. Kiss and Make-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena finally apologizes in the only language that she and June speak fluently.

Serena took June’s face in her hands and kissed her tenderly—on her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, along her jaw, and finally--her lips. She kissed her softly and slowly, exploring every inch of her lips and mouth with her own. It was so tender, Serena choked back a sob, but couldn’t keep a tear from running down her face and onto June’s. She wanted to memorize everything about June. The way she felt, the way she tasted, the way her eyes darkened when she was aroused. She didn’t know when they might have another chance to be together like this before they escaped Gilead—and then afterwards, who knew what might happen? June brought her closer to happy than she knew she deserved, and if they had only this one night, she wanted to show June just how she felt about her.

Serena picked up the hem of June’s nightgown and pulled it over her head, then did the same with her own. They sat facing each other, and Serena kissed June’s hand and made her way up her arm, then her shoulders, her chest, her stomach, and then back up to her breasts. She ran her fingers through June’s beautiful locks of blonde hair, caressing the back of her neck and making the fine hairs stand up. She pulled June into a deep kiss, while she laid her down and straddled her. June watched every move Serena made. This beautifully flawed, mean, and sometimes evil woman, was trying to show her, without a word, how much she cared for her—how sorry she was for being a monster sometimes—and there was a promise in those kisses to do better. _She’s right. This is the only language that she and I speak fluently._

Serena dragged her breasts over June’s body, from her hips up to her lover’s mouth, giving June the opportunity to intercept them and bring them to close to her mouth. She pushed them close together, so she could pay attention to both nipples at the same time, while she continued to caress them. Serena’s eyes never left June’s face as she continued to lick and suck her nipples, and at one point, sucked them both into her mouth at the same time, causing Serena’s eyes to close and head to fall back, and she slid down so she could grind herself on June’s hip.

June looked up at Serena—she wanted to memorize this night too. They both knew how high the stakes were—the risks they were taking. And they could make all the promises they wanted to each other, but if their escape failed, they most certainly would hang together on the wall for their crimes.

“You’re so wet, Serena,” June whispered, as she released her breasts and slipped her hand between her thigh and Serena’s pussy, running her fingers through her slick folds.

“You do this to me, June. Only you.”

June took Serena’s hand and put it between her legs, getting lost for a moment as Serena returned the favor, and explored the outside of June’s pussy, grazing her clit with her forefinger and teasing her opening.

“Fuck, that’s so nice,” June said as she enjoyed Serena’s attentive caresses, and continued to focus on feeling Serena at the same time.

“Can you do something for me, June?” Serena asked, her long hair falling down around her face and tickling June’s chest. June mumbled her assent, and Serena whispered into her ear, “I need you to sit on my face.”

Serena’s words sent a shock of wetness straight to June’s core. “Kiss me first,” June asked, and they both lay down on the bed, arms wrapped around each other’s bodies and shared a passionate kiss.

June reluctantly broke the kiss, lured only by the promise of her lover’s gifted tongue buried inside her. She moved her body up so she could straddle Serena’s face, held on to the top of the headboard, and lowered herself slowly onto her lover’s waiting mouth. She kept herself just above Serena reach, then lowered herself to allow her tongue just a taste. She repeated this torturous tease a few more times, before Serena slid her arms underneath June’s thighs, and pulled her down firmly onto her mouth and chin. When she finally got her whole mouth on June, Serena produced an amazingly sexy, guttural moan that ripped right through June’s body, igniting a flame that had been burning slowly, but had now kicked up a few notches. 

Serena’s head was swimming in pleasure. There was nothing—nothing better than June riding her face, and her being there to lick every drop. June could tease her all she wanted about sharing, but right now, in this moment, she was not fucking sharing.

 _How is she so fucking good at this_? June wondered vaguely, not really caring about anything but the pleasure she was experiencing. Serena was taking her sweet fucking time with June, and for once, June was not complaining.

“I need a taste too,” June whispered. “Let me turn around so I can get my mouth on you.” She felt Serena shake her head no, as she gripped June’s thighs harder, pulling June down closer against her mouth. Serena mumbled something, lowered her hand for a moment and raised her glistening wet fingers to June’s mouth above her. June grasped Serena’s hand and dipped her head down, sucked her fingers in her mouth and licked every drop. “You are so fucking bad at sharing,” June said, as Serena sucked her clit into her mouth hard, while her chin put delicious pressure on her opening. June was engulfed in pleasure, as Serena’s mouth continued to work its magic on her. With Serena’s intense focus on her clit, while her face ground itself into her pussy, she gripped the headboard hard, reached down for a pillow and held it to her mouth while she let out a long, well-muffled, cry of relief. Serena kept her mouth still, while June rode out the end of her orgasm grinding down on her face. She released June’s thighs and helped her lie down, laying her head on June’s chest.

“You’re really good at that. I love how you immerse yourself when you eat pussy.”

“Just a natural, I guess. And you really are the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Oh you sweet-talker,” June said, grabbing her nightgown off the bed and wiping Serena’s face with it. “You are completely covered in me. You face is drenched, Serena—your hair is wet, you’ve got me dripping off your chin. You are going to need to clean up before you leave this room tonight.”

Serena just smiled and rested her head onto June’s chest contentedly. Tonight, she drank from June until she had her fill—and she didn’t have to share.


	23. Beautiful Mess

June left a trail of kisses all along Serena’s thighs and stomach, until she turned her attention to the beautiful, soaking wet pussy that lay before her. “You really like eating me, don’t you?” June asked. “You are completely drenched and if I didn’t know better, I’d say you came, like four or five times already.”

“If I did, and I’m not saying that I did, it was completely involuntary and beyond my control,” Serena said, defending herself.

“Hey, now, if you did, that’s really fucking hot. You’re really fucking hot, Serena. You make me crazy, but when we are lying like this, without our Gilead uniforms, with our mouths busy pleasuring each other, it’s the best feeling in the world.”

“It really is,” Serena agreed. “Now I am absolutely not telling you what to do, June, but I really, really, need you bury your face in my cunt before I explode.”

“Jesus, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” June said before granting her lover’s wish and focusing all of her attention on pleasing Serena. Serena’s taste was an intoxicating mixture of sweet and spice, which she enjoyed while she licked her with long, broad strokes, drinking as much of her in as possible. Serena grabbed the back of June’s head and moved it up so that her mouth was right at her clit. June looked up to find Serena glaring at her. “June,” she growled, “Quit fucking around and suck my clit—please.”

June decided to have mercy on Serena, but making a mental note to make long, torturous, teasing love to her when she locked her in that mythical hotel room. June wrapped her arms around the back of Serena’s thighs and pulled her closer to her mouth, sucking her clit and working the bottom of it with the tip of her tongue. June continued to suck and lick Serena’s clit until she felt her hips buck into her face, while her back arched. Serena had taken June’s pillow and put it over her mouth to keep herself from screaming out loud. As Serena’s pleasure peaked, and then gradually ebbed, June kept her mouth still and felt the last pulses until they slowed down.

“Come up here,” Serena said.

“Not yet—I’m not finished with you,” June said, slipping two fingers into Serena’s cunt, zeroing in on her G-spot, massaging it and making Serena squirm.

“I…you might…I won’t be able to…” Serena moaned incoherently.

“You won’t be able to, what? Come for me? Oh, I’m quite sure that you will," June said as she picked up the pace and continued to fuck Serena while her thumb rubbed against her clit in uneven strokes, making Serena crazy. June moved her body up so she could suck on one of Serena’s tits, rolling her nipple between her tongue and her teeth and nipping at it until she was rewarded by a satisfying moan.

“What’s that, Serena? Is that the sound of you getting ready to come for me?” June said teasing, slowing down the pace of her thrusting.

Serena groaned in frustration, and said “I suppose I deserve your teasing, but could you just please let me come now so we don’t get fucking caught?”

“Yes, Mrs. Waterford,” June said as she added a third finger inside Serena and dipped her head down to capture her hot, engorged clit between her lips and sucked it inside her mouth, her tongue swirling around it with just the right pressure.

“Fuck, June!” Serena whispered as loudly as she dared, as her hips bucked. She was so fucking close. It took just another 60 seconds of June’s attention until her pleasure peaked and she couldn’t hear anything for a minute or two while she was lost in a haze of bliss.

As Serena’s consciousness started to return, she felt the weight of June’s head, laying between her legs, right on top of her pussy. “Comfy June?”

“Very. It’s a beautiful mess down here that I made and I want to enjoy it for a few moments,” June said contentedly.

“I had a cat who used to love sleeping between my legs,” Serena said, as she gently guided June up to lay beside her, where she drew lazy circles on her skin. “Maybe that will my term of endearment for you.”

“What, pussy?” June said laughing.

“I was thinking pussycat…or maybe kitty or kitten. Since you like lying between my legs,” Serena explained.

“That kind of thing happens organically. We can’t ‘pick’ an endearment for each other—it just has to be tried out to see how it feels. And for the record, I don’t want you to go,” June said, gripping Serena’s body and pulling her close.

“Neither do I. But tomorrow when we wake up, it’s just 7 more days. If we can just not get caught or killed in the next week, we have a great chance of getting out of here alive. And then maybe we can figure out what we’re going to call each other,” Serena said.

“I think we should keep our mouths too busy pleasuring each other to talk much, and then we won’t have to worry about what to call each other.”

“You won’t get any argument out of me, June. It’s my new favorite hobby—it might even replace gardening.”

“Funny, Serena. But seriously, I loved tonight. I loved how you took your time with me and showed me that other side of you that I haven’t gotten to see much—ever. I felt what you were trying to say.”

Serena didn’t say anything and looked away.

“Don’t hide your tears from me, please,” June implored, turning Serena’s face towards hers and using her thumb to wipe the tears away.

“You scared me tonight. I thought I really blew it for good, and you weren’t going to forgive me. Please be patient with me June. I’m unlearning a lot of meanness. But it’s becoming easier because I have a big incentive to change. I want to be better for you. I want to be someone who deserves you. It won’t happen overnight, but please don’t give up on me,” Serena said, her tears continuing to fall.

“Baby, it’s ok.” June said, rubbing her back. “How did that feel?”

“How did what feel?”

“I called you baby—how did that feel?”

“Weird, to be honest. But maybe if we were not here in Gilead, in your Handmaid’s bed, basking in an illegal afterglow after the most amazing sex ever, it might have sounded like a nice endearment.”

“Good point, Serena. Maybe we can try out the endearments after we get out of Gilead.”

“And speaking of getting out, kiss me good night. I have to go now, and please don’t pout. I can’t take it when you pout,” Serena said.

“Fine”, June said, pulling Serena in for one last kiss. “Dear god, don’t forget to wash your face and hands before you go downstairs. You have me all over you.”

“I know,” Serena said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.


	24. The Salvaging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Lydia gets what she has coming to her...and more. This contains graphic violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING...WARNING...WARNING...This chapter contains graphic violence. It is canon-typical, but I just wanted to warn anyone who might be sensitive to it.

Two days after Ofgary delivered her baby, the bells rang, summoning the Handmaids to a Salvaging. June heard the ringing and got a really bad feeling that she just couldn’t shake. Any time the bells rang to summon the Handmaids as a group, tt was normal to feel fear and trepidation. But today felt different. It was so soon after the incident in the birthing room at the Halstrom’s that June was certain it was time for Aunt Lydia to exact her revenge on them. No one would be spared. Naomi Putnam’s defense of the Handmaids and the Wives standing in solidarity would more than likely make it much worse. June dressed quickly, and hurried down the stairs, hoping to find Serena before she had to go. She checked her room, and she wasn’t there. Next was the sitting room—no Serena. Finally, she went outside to check the greenhouse. Serena was there, deadheading some roses, and looking very focused on her work.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Waterford,” June said.

“Yes? What is it?”

June entered the greenhouse, and looked around, making sure no one was watching them. “The bells just rang—do you know what’s going on? Does it have anything to do with punishing us for what happened with Ofgary and the Wives in the birthing room?”

“I did hear that Aunt Lydia has been taken to the hospital—she’s had a complete nervous breakdown,” Serena explained. “The way she screamed at Naomi Putnam—in front of all the Wives and Handmaids—well, that can’t go unpunished. It was beyond disrespectful. There is a hierarchy, and the Wives are pretty high up there, even if we don’t have government issued cattle-prods to enforce our will,” Serena explained. “She overstepped, and she’s in trouble. If you ask me, I think she’s faking the nervous breakdown, because she’s afraid the next step is the Colonies. They really can’t hang an Aunt—that would be like hanging an Eye. Although this is Gilead, so anything is possible.”

“So what do you think the Salvaging bells are ringing for?” June asked. “I just have a really bad feeling about today. I don’t suppose there’s a way I can call in sick? Get a note from my Commander’s Wife?”

Serena gave June a sympathetic smile. “No, I’m afraid not. This time, you haven’t done anything wrong, so I don' think you need to worry. You were actually the only one Lydia spared the other day. And I think you have at least 3 of your 9 lives left, so I think you’ll be ok.”

“If you say so. I’ll see you later, hopefully,” June said, moving closer to Serena. “And if anything goes wrong, and I don’t come back in one piece, please get out of Gilead and take Hannah with you. Then at least she’ll be safe.”

“June, don’t think like that—please. We’re all going to leave together,” Serena said firmly as she gripped June’s hand for a moment before releasing it.

“Blessed be the Fruit,” June said.

“May the Lord Open.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June and Ofmatthew walked quickly to the Salvaging location—in silence. Things were just too scary right now to chance anything. _Keep breathing June—one foot in front of the other. You can’t control the situation, but you can take an action if there’s an opportunity, and you can deal with whatever they hand out. You’re pretty fucking resilient. Yeah, keep telling yourself that._

The Handmaids lined up, trying to see what the main event was going to be. Aunt Lydia was nowhere to be found. Several Aunts paced on the stage, looking a bit nervous. Aunt Elizabeth took the microphone, and asked everyone to line up in formation so they could begin. The Handmaids quickly got in line—today was not a day to piss anyone off.

“Today, is a day of great sorrow for us all. We regret to inform you that Aunt Lydia will no longer serve in her position,” Aunt Elizabeth said. The Handmaids knew better than to make a sound, but if they could it might have been an incredulous gasp followed by wild cheers—neither of which would serve to keep them alive today.

“In fact, because of the gravity of her crimes, she’s been removed from her position. And now, will Handmaids Ofwarren, Oftim, and Ofandy please step to the front."

As they made their way to the front, armed guards were dragging someone to the middle of the Salvaging circle. This time, an audible gasp ran through the assembled crowd. “Settle down, girls, settle down,” Aunt Elizabeth admonished. “We will read through the crimes, and the punishment will be handed down.”

“Aunt Lydia, you have been charged and convicted of endangering the well-being of a Handmaid and her unborn child while in the middle of labor, disrupting the two sacred prayer circles—one led by the Handmaids, and one led by the Commanders’ Wives. In addition, you brought instruments of violence into the birthing room, and used them on three Handmaids who were innocent of any crimes. Finally, you disrespected Mrs. Halstrom’s home, and exhibited extreme disrespect to Mrs. Putnam. Our birthing rituals form the very basis of why Gilead was founded, and what we hope to accomplish,” Aunt Elizabeth said, pausing for effect.

“Aunt Lydia is guilty of disrespecting all of the Handmaid's, including Ofgary, and all of the Wives on that day. We do not minimize the sacrifice that you, our beloved Handmaids, make for Gilead. To all of you, we want to once again, thank you for your sacrifice, and we regret that you had to witness any violence within the sanctity of the birthing room.”

The crowd was eerily quiet, with everyone collectively holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. The three Handmaids who were singled out and sent to the front tried to stand as still as possible, but their fear was palpable.

“What the wicked fears will come upon him, but the desire of the righteous will be granted,” Aunt Elizabeth intoned. “Will the righteous Handmaids please take your places around the Salvaging Circle, for it is you who will decide Aunt Lydia’s fate.”

Oftim, Ofandy and Ofwarren looked incredulously at each other and waited for more instructions. “In order to punish Aunt Lydia for her crimes, you will choose the most appropriate punishment. You may stone her to death, with your fellow Handmaids. Or, we can set the timer for 4 minutes, and allow the three of you to unleash your wrath upon her. You may do anything within your physical power to punish her, and if she is still alive afterwards, she’ll be put on a bus to the Colonies. Or, your final option is to have her hung on the wall, in front of all of you. Only the three of you may vote, and it must be unanimous. You have one minute to decide.”

 _Am I in a fucking dream world right now? This has got to be some sort of brilliant dream, because there is no way that this is happening._ June whispered to Alma, “pinch me, because I must be asleep—this can’t be happening—this has to be some sort of trick of some sort. It’s somehow going to fall back on us.”

“It’s real,” Alma replied. “My Commander likes to talk after I give him a morning blow job. He said they were sick and tired of Lydia’s bullshit, and that they needed to throw us Handmaids a bone—this is our bone. Then right afterwards, we go back to our sexual servitude—but for today, we party like rockstars.”

“Holy fuck, what do you think they’re going to pick?” June asked.

“Well, if it were me, I’d pick the second option—I think the three of them can kick her to death in 4 minutes, and if not, she’ll die of her injuries on the way to the Colonies, where she will burn to death among the nuclear waste, if she lives beyond her first night. The women their will pull her heart out of her chest and eat it for breakfast. She won’t last 2 minutes in the Colonies. Everyone hates Aunts—everyone—even the Commanders and the Eyes. Sending an Aunt to the Colonies will feel like Christmas to the inmates.”

June nodded in agreement. “That would be my choice too—it seems sensible, although it might be cathartic for us all to get the chance to stone her to death. Wait! They seem to have come to their decision.”

“Girls—what have you decided?” Aunt Elizabeth asked.

“We all prayed about it, and we feel that Aunt Lydia should have the same punishment that she would give out if she were in our position,” Oftim said, acting as spokesperson. “Stoning and hanging are too quick, and she does not deserve mercy, for she has shown us none. We choose the 4 minute salvaging, followed by an immediate transport to the Colonies, if she lives through it.”

“And so it shall be,” Aunt Elizabeth proclaimed. “Lydia, may God have mercy on your soul, for there is no mercy here for you today. Girls, when you hear the whistle, you may start. Remember, you must stop when the whistle blows the second time to signify that the 4 minutes are up.”

When the whistle blew, it was complete mayhem within the Salvaging circle. Ofwarren made the first blow and kicked her in the right eye. “There you sick cunt—see how you like life with just one eye,” she screamed. Oftim, a former soccer player in college, kicked her head right underneath her chin, while Lydia’s head snapped back and hit the pavement with a great thud. Blood was pouring from her head already, and they were only two kicks in. Ofandy fell to her knees and started pummeling her with her fists, while Lydia was too weak to even ward off any blows. Oftim resumed kicking her repeatedly in the head. Ofwarren stood on her neck with all of her weight, cutting off her air supply, which didn’t really matter, because all of the head kicks had done the job, and she was effectively brain dead. They still had two and a half minutes to go, so they continued to punch, stomp pound, kick, spit, and curse until the whistle blew. Aunt Lydia’s head was crushed and her lifeless body lay in a pool of blood. Oftim, Ofandy, and Ofwarren stood back from the carnage obediently as soon as the whistle blew, covered in blood and bits of flesh, still wondering if there was some sort of awful punishment coming their way.

“That’s all for today, girls. Please return to your homes, and we thank you for your service,” Aunt Elizabeth said, her voice trembling a bit, but for the most part, she was stoic about it. “Blessed be the fruit.”

“May the Lord open,” replied the Handmaids in unison as they quickly dispersed. June walked home with Ofmatthew, and she was dying to ask her what she was thinking and feeling, but they both were still processing and in shock. She did ask after a little while if she was ok.

“Praise fucking be, the mother-fucking witch is dead. God is good, all the time,” Ofmatthew said, smiling for the first time in a long time. 

“Praise fucking be,” June replied. “And Ofwarren, Oftim and Ofandy are my mother-fucking sheros. I will carry their groceries anytime.”


	25. Are we all just monsters?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June returns from the salvaging and fills Rita in. Serena goes for a walk and gets an update on their plans.

June entered the Waterford’s house through the kitchen, hanging her cloak up and trying not to smile. “Blessed be the fruit,” she said to Rita.

“May the Lord open,” Rita said, lifting her head from her chopping to look at June.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my day was, honey?” June quipped.

“I am holding a knife. You should be careful about goofing around with me, because you don’t know what my day has been like,” Rita said carefully.

“I’m sorry Rita. Is everything ok?” June asked.

“Just Mrs. Waterford being Mrs. Waterford,” Rita replied. “Apparently, breakfast was not to her liking, and my laundry skills seem to be slipping.”

“You know how she gets when she has her period,” June replied. _Shit! I shouldn’t know that!_

“You do have a point. I’m so busy counting your monthly napkins that I don’t even think about keeping track of hers,” Rita said. “Well good, if it’s just old-fashioned PMS and she’s a barren woman and has ‘can’t bear a child angst’, I can understand that. But sometimes she gets so fucking psychotic, she starts lashing out for no apparent reason, which makes her more of a terrorist than a bitch. You just never know when or where or how she’s going to strike.”

“I suspect that all of the above are in operation,” June said. “Did she hit you, or just scream at you?”

“Just screamed, although she did grab my arm hard enough to leave a bruise,” Rita said. “Shit, that’s nothing on the Serena Waterford scale of pain. So how was your day that you’re dying to tell me about?”

June checked the hallways and the open doorways for any Guards who might be lurking about.

“So we get to the Salvaging spot, and Aunt Lydia is nowhere to be found. Some of the other Aunts were scurrying around trying to figure out how to do one of those things without her, so Aunt Elizabeth stepped up to the plate. She says some shit about Lydia being not with us, and not well, and all of a sudden, we see the Guards dragging Lydia to the Salvaging Circle.”

“Shut the fuck up—you cannot be serious,” Rita said. “What the fuck could the head Aunt of all Aunts do to get put into the Circle of Doom?”

“Serious as a heart attack. At the birthing yesterday, she absolutely lost her shit in front of all of the Wives. She wanted to punish Ofgary—the Handmaid giving birth—for calling her a miserable cunt, which by the way, I found personally satisfying. But anyway, she knew she couldn’t hit her in the middle of delivering a baby, so she pulled four of us up to the front, including me, and asked her which one should get the cattle prod. So the little bitch picks me. Fortunately, Lydia is wise to the fact that she and I aren’t friends, and that she’s protecting the other three. So she lets me go and whips out her cattle prod and shoots the three Handmaids with it. At that moment, some of the Wives bust in and catch her in the act. Lydia shot her mouth off and screamed at Mrs. Putnam, and the rest is pure theater. Then the Wives all came into the room, and stood next to their respective Handmaid, while Naomi ripped Lydia a new asshole and had her dragged off to the Red Center. Then she gave a pretty speech about how grateful they all are to us and how Lydia shouldn’t have tarnished a beautiful day. All that was missing was a rousing rendition of Kum-by-yah. So today, Aunt Elizabeth reads out the crimes—endangering a Handmaid in the middle of delivery, defiling the sacred Birthing room, exposing a soon to be mother and her unborn child to violence, and of course, disrespecting a Wife. Game, set match to Naomi Putnam,” June said.”

“What was the punishment? Did you all get to kick her in the cunt?” Rita asked excitedly. “Man I would have given anything to see that!”

“They actually let the 3 Handmaids that she tased decide her fate. They chose to have 4 minutes to kick her to death, and they made the most of it. That bitch was dead after about 4 kicks,” June said. “As gross as those Salvagings are, this time I just couldn’t feel an ounce of sorrow or revulsion.”

“You know why they created those Salvaging rituals, right?” Rita said. “Because you Handmaid bitches are real gangstas, and you know how to put your impotent rage to good use as soon as you are given the chance. Wow. This is the best fucking news I’ve heard in years! I think this deserves another toast.”

“You won’t get any argument from me, but where’s Mrs. Waterford?”

“I am right here,” Serena said ominously, as she walked into the room. “After all this time, I can’t believe I have to actually tell you two to stop gossiping, and get to work. Rita, aren’t you supposed to be making dinner? And…Offred, I’m sure you enjoyed the Salvaging a great deal today with your little friends, but you literally smell feral. Wash that stench off of you—now!” Serena ordered, sending both Rita and June into ‘oh shit, she’s in a mood’ mode as they scurried to do her bidding.

“Sorry Mrs. Waterford,” June said. “If you’ll just excuse me.”

“I’ve been searching for an excuse for you since you arrived in this house, and so far, I’ve come up empty. Now go!” Serena screamed, sending June scurrying up the stairs to her room. “And Rita, I expect better from you. Don’t let me catch the two of you gossiping like hens together again,” Serena said, exiting the house from the kitchen door with her blue cape swirling around her legs.

She walked purposefully to the gate, opened it, and shut it behind her. She had so much nervous energy built up, she just had to walk some of it off. That, and she needed to pick up a note that was waiting for her along her path. As she rounded the corner of her street, she saw Alexandra Crowley and Heather Vasquez leisurely strolling towards her, smiling.

“Blessed be the fruit, ladies,” Serena said, kissing each of them on the cheek.

“May the Lord open,” they replied in unison.

“Would you like to walk with us, Serena?” Heather asked, knowing that the offer would be refused. They couldn’t afford to be seen spending any amount of time with Serena—even this much was probably too much.

“As much as I would love to, I’m afraid I’m late for an appointment and I’m headed in the other direction. Enjoy the rest of your day, ladies,” Serena said, quickly making her way past her friends, hoping their encounter was brief enough to keep the two of them out of trouble. Once she and June escaped, anyone who helped her had to be beyond reproach or they would suffer dire consequences.

Serena felt in the pocket of her cloak for the note that she knew would be there. She walked for another 30 minutes before turning around and heading back. On her return, she ran into Naomi Putnam, pushing her stroller, and accompanied by Joanna Parsons. After exchanging pleasantries and cooing over the baby, Serena took her leave quickly, and arrived home shortly thereafter. When she entered the kitchen, she saw that dinner was in the oven, the kitchen was spic and span, and there was no sign of June or Rita. She felt a bit bad about yelling at them, but she really had to keep up appearances or this whole thing was going to blow sky high. She walked upstairs to her room, closed the door, and retrieved the note that was in the pocket of her cloak. She opened it, and it was completely blank, and Serena released the breath that she’d been holding. A blank page meant that everything was going according to plan, and no changes were expected at this time. Taking no chances, Serena grabbed her matches and went into her bathroom to light the paper and envelope on fire, and let it burn down to ash in the sink before rinsing the evidence away.

Serena was tired from her walk, so she hung up her cloak, removed her boots, and laid down on her bed on top of the covers. Within minutes of lying down, Serena fell asleep, and didn’t wake up until she heard a knock at her bedroom door.

“Mrs. Waterford?” June called out. “Dinner is ready.”

“Come in for a moment, Offred,” Serena called out.

June opened the door and poked her head in. “Yes Mrs. Waterford?” June said, her voice betraying her nervousness. _I really do have fucking PTSD. I hope she has a lot of money in her piggy bank, because this soon-to-be former Handmaid is going to need a LOT of therapy._

“Just come here for a moment,” Serena said, sitting up in bed and leaning against the pillows.

June slow walked herself to the side of the bed, not really sure if she was going to be kissed or back-handed.

“Sit down, please,” Serena said, patting the spot next to her. “I promise, I won’t bite.”

“All right,” June said, sitting on the side of the bed facing Serena.

Serena took June’s hand, and stoked the back of it softly, then brought it to her lips and kissed it. “I just want to say that I’m very sorry for screaming at you like that. It was completely an act, and my effort to behave like the miserable monstrous cunt that you all know and loathe. We are so close to making it out of here, June. I might even have dialed my Serena-bitchiness up a notch or two with Rita earlier today, but I swear, I’m taking no pleasure in it. It’s just my cover.”

“Serena, you said I smelled positively feral. Really? That was a bit much,” June said, glaring at her.

“In my defense, you really did,” Serena said, trying to stifle a laugh. “I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like to you—to watch one of your primary jailors, captors, brain-washer, punishment-giver—get kicked to death by three of your own. That must have felt really…”

“Fucked up, Serena,” June said. “It felt very fucked up. I watched a human being be kicked to death in front of my eyes, and I had not an ounce of sympathy for her. She deserved that and more. That woman has personally fucked my life up, never mind the lives of every single Handmaid that I know here.”

“It seems natural, June, doesn’t it?” Serena said softly, still holding her hand.

“Gilead natural is not fucking natural, Serena. I used to be a human being, with a moral compass, and a sense of right and wrong. Being enslaved, and imprisoned and forcibly raped repeatedly has apparently turned me into someone I don’t recognize. I’ve become this person who literally lives from moment to moment, who makes decisions based on what’s best for me at that moment in time. Not what June Osborne would do back in Boston. Not even what the perfectly trained ‘Stepford Handmaid Offred’ would do. But whatever is most expedient for whatever personality I’m sporting on a particular day. Sometimes I think I’m fucking crazy, Serena. That I don’t know who I am. Do I want my kids to ever know that I watched someone get kicked to death and I liked it? That I wished my foot had kicked her in the head at least once? That Gilead turned me into a monster, and I lost my soul here?" June stopped talking and turned away.

“Gilead takes normal human beings and makes them into beasts,” Serena said. “That’s what having all your rights taken from you will do. I spend an awful lot of time wondering what happened to sweet, kind, pious Serena Joy, and how the hell I became this horrid, angry, vicious woman, who stomps around screaming, and physically abusing members of my own household. I know you’ve had far more of your rights stripped away than I did, and that I’m pretty responsible for the plight of women in this society. And I do feel badly about going along with everything. But I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live for whatever reason—maybe so that someday I could fix all of this—who knows? I guess I want to say that in Gilead, we all make choices on a minute by minute basis—usually based on what level of punishment we are willing to risk. It’s atrocious, and it’s fucked up, and we’re fucked up because of it.”

“Yeah—it’s fucked up and we can agree on that,” June said. “And if we make it out of here, we can spend our lives in psychoanalysis and try to find some new sort of normalcy. I just have this feeling that I can’t shake that the life I used to live is utterly closed to me—no matter how kind my husband and friends are going to be to me. They can never know all that I’ve done here. You’re really the only person who knows what I’ve been through.”

“And I feel the same about you,” Serena agreed. “And I have no past lifetime to return to. I blew that up completely, and I’m pretty much a pariah, and will be until the day I die. The most I can hope for is a quiet existence, hopefully outside of a penitentiary, where I can live in peace. I can’t live with myself anymore here. I have to get out and start being a better person. I can’t stomach Serena Waterford—I need to find the better parts of me that I’ve been seeing lately, and cobble together a newer and improved version of me.”

“Preferably one that doesn’t scream, back hand, or send me to my room with bread and water for 3 weeks. Hey, that was a joke,” June said, seeing the stricken look on Serena’s face.

“No…no it wasn’t, and I deserved it. June, I watched you slink in here like a whipped dog. You’re still pretty terrified of me,” Serena said. “It will take me a long time to earn your trust, if that’s even possible. But I hope you’ll let me try.”

“I think our original plan of keeping our mouths busy pleasuring each other will go a long way towards healing the fucked-up parts of our relationship—or it might make things more fucked up—but at least it will be fun,” June said, quirking her eyebrow for emphasis. “And Rita is going to skin me alive if I ruin dinner, so are you coming down to eat?”

“I’ll eat in my room tonight—you can just bring me a tray after you and Rita have finished with your dinner,” Serena said. “I was evil to both of you today, and I don’t have the stomach to pull a Serena and sit there eating my dinner looking all superior at the both of you while you wait on me hand and foot.”

“Are you sure?” June asked.

“Absolutely. Now go enjoy your dinner, and I wish I could go be with you tonight, but I don’t want to risk it,” Serena said.

“I know…I know,” June said, pouting. “I want to say something sassy, sexy and suggestive to you, but it’s getting scary close to D day. Is everything still on track?”

“Everything is absolutely perfect. I confirmed that today.”

“Sweet!” June said, leaning over to kiss Serena’s cheek. "One of us will bring you dinner—short straw I guess. Under his eye, Mrs. Waterford.”

“Under his eye,” Serena replied, as June closed the door and she reached over to get a cigarette from her nightstand. Lighting it, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the relief that the first hit of nicotine always brought to her. She’d been smoking much less lately—for whatever reason. _Probably a good idea since smoking in front of kids is not a good_ , she thought as she imagined June and her kids, relaxed, wearing normal clothes, and playing outside in the sunshine. _I sure hope I’m there to take that picture someday._ Her mind wanted to pull her in a hundred directions, but she focused on the cigarette—on observing the glowing tip, inhaling and exhaling, and the feeling of the cigarette between her fingers. It was as close to meditating as she had gotten in a long time, but it served to keep her calm, and that was the objective. She was glad she got to speak to June for a few minutes, and grateful for June’s understanding that tonight needed to be a no-contact evening. _We’re so close to escaping—we can’t be stupid about taking risks we don’t need to. And Fred is coming home this evening, so we really need to be careful_. She felt a twitch between her legs and all the wetness that had built up just by being around June for 10 minutes was calling out for attention. _Maybe later,_ she thought, as she finished her cigarette.

About 30 minutes later, she heard a knock at the door, so she rose to answer it. She was slightly surprised to see Rita holding her tray. “Here you are Mrs. Waterford. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Rita. I’m sure it will be delicious,” Serena said, her face unsmiling but not particularly unpleasant. Rita was good at reading Serena’s face.

“Will there be anything else, ma’am?”

“No thank you Rita,” Serena responded

“Good night, ma’am,” Rita said, exiting the room, and closing the door behind her.

Serena ate her meal, and had to admit, it was quite good. She collected her dishes back onto the tray, thought about bringing it downstairs herself so that she didn’t have to trouble Rita or June, and vetoed that bit of courtesy that the Old Serena would never offer. She was going to stay right here, in this room, by herself, and not sneak out to see June. _Lord give me strength._


	26. The peaches are fine today

The next few days passed relatively uneventfully. Every day, Serena worked in her greenhouse, screamed at the household staff once or twice a day to keep up appearances, took long walks, and was solicitous towards her husband as needed, although he was rarely at home. Fred was very focused on the upcoming Chinese trade delegation visit, and was in the habit of leaving very early for the office, and returning very late. Normally, Serena would help arrange the entertainment for their guests, whether they be official state dinners, or smaller gatherings with Commanders and their Wives. One morning, she rose extra-early so she could act the part of the dutiful spouse and offer to help with any social arrangements for the honored guests. She knew he would refuse her help, but it would earn her a point in the ‘nice wife’ category.

“We’re taking a different approach with this delegation,” Fred said in response to Serena’s offer. “They’re not the most social bunch, and we want to keep the Wives strictly out of it. It gets very distracting and out-of-control when we try to showcase how 'normal' life in Gilead is. The Chinese don’t waste time trying to show the world how ‘normal’ their society is. They do what they want, and they are unapologetic, so why should we be any different? They are resolute in their beliefs, as is Gilead. So you, my dear, are off the hook.”

“Of course, Fred. Well, in that case, I hope everything goes exactly as you want it to go.”

“Oh, I think it will, Serena,” Fred said knowingly as he got ready to leave the house for work. “When this is all finished, we can focus on your speaking tour. I think it’s going to be a great experience for you, and it will enrich the lives of the women of Gilead.” Serena suppressed a shudder as he leaned over and kissed her cheek, and offered him what she hoped passed for a smile.

As soon as he left, she went upstairs to the top floor where June’s room was located. The tell-tale clicks of her heels on the hardwood floors alerted June to her approach. As the mistress of the house, she went into whatever room she wanted to (except the Commander’s office), without announcing herself or knocking, as was her prerogative. But with June, she tried the kinder, less invasive, approach.

“Offred?” Serena said, softly, waiting a moment before she opened the door, checking to make sure that the house guard had not followed her upstairs.

As it was still very early in the morning—two hours earlier than June usually got up—Serena was surprised to see June sitting up in bed awake. “Good morning Mrs. Waterford,” June said smiling. Serena closed the door and quickly made her way over to June and sat at the edge of the bed. She was well aware she was playing with fire. They were just a day away from their escape—now was not the time to screw up. _But fuck, I miss June._ With her uninjured hand, she gently stroked June’s face, cupped her chin and pulled her towards her lips for a lingering kiss. Making a split-second decision, Serena wasted no time. Her hand dove under June’s nightgown, and her lips made their way down her neck and shoulders.

 _This is a really terrible idea. We shouldn’t risk getting caught when we’re so close!_ June thought, as she spread her legs to give Serena better access. June’s breath came out in gasps, and she pulled Serena’s head down to her hard nipple which was begging for attention. Serena’s fingers were like a guided missile, plunging in and out of June, while her thumb caressed her clit. 

“Serena,” June moaned softly, as she felt Serena’s fingers taking her to another plane of existence. In just a few minutes, June attached her mouth to Serena’s to muffle a strangled a cry as the orgasm ripped through her. Serena held her through the aftershocks, while she continued to leave soft kisses on June’s chest, shoulders and face. She pulled her fingers out and held them between their faces. “One finger for you, one for me,” Serena said, as she proceeded to lick one of her fingers clean of June’s juices. “Come on June, don’t dawdle…my generosity is time-limited,” she said and June promptly joined her in licking the other finger, followed up by a long, lingering kiss where they shared her taste.

“I’ll have to leave this B&B a high rating on Yelp,” June said. “The hostess offers in-person wake up calls, followed by breakfast in bed. The hospitality can’t be beat.”

Serena smiled, and held June in her arms for a moment before disengaging. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“So ready. You?”

“More than ready. We had to make a couple of readjustments, but they are minor. We’ll sleep one more night in Gilead, and then we are out of here,” Serena said, looking tense.

“What’s wrong, Serena? Are you nervous?”

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m not stupid,” Serena said, a touch of her biting sarcasm cutting through before she could catch herself. “What I mean to say is that it is really important that it comes off perfectly—without a hitch. Your life and your daughter’s life hang in the balance.”

“And yours too,” June added, holding both of Serena’s hands. “This doesn’t work without you. If anything happens to you, the whole plan is busted and we all get caught.”

“Actually, no,” Serena explained. “There will be people following us to make sure if anything happens, they can intervene and hopefully keep us all together. But if anyone has to be taken, it will be me. They’ll get the two of you the rest of the way, and with any luck whatsoever, you’ll be in Nova Scotia tomorrow night.”

“I don’t know how I feel about self-sacrificing Serena who is learning how to share,” June said truthfully. “Every day, you show me different sides of you, making me broaden my concept of who you are as a person and what your capacity for self-examination and reflection really is.”

“Save the psycho-babble bullshit for Canada. You can get my head shrunk later. Right now, we just need to… honestly, you are such a lazy, worthless piece of garbage! Quit lying around and get dressed! Rita’s got better things to do than make you breakfast whenever you feel like making an appearance,” Serena barked, as she turned around and opened the door to June’s room and exited. “Under his eye, she said, as she passed the Guard on security rounds who had landed at the top of the stairs just as she left June’s room.

“Is everything in order with the handmaid, Mrs. Waterford?” the young guard asked politely. _He must be new. He’s too fucking nice to be a real guard,_ Serena thought.

“Yes, she’s just overslept again, and I had to light a fire under her. We can’t have household staff lying around all day—the shopping won’t get done on its own,” Serena said, laying it on fairly thick—she had a reputation to maintain, after all. She made sure to stomp her feet as she went down the stairs ensuring that everyone would know that she’s pissed at Offred.

June blasted out of bed as soon as Serena left the room and quickly went into the bathroom. She didn’t want to get reported for being a lazy ass and sleeping late, although to be fair it was still way earlier than she normally got up. _Thank god Serena’s bat-like hearing picked up the sound of the guards boots stomping up the steps. That was too fucking close._

She splashed cold water on her face, and took a wash cloth to freshen up. She brushed her teeth and quickly got dressed and ready for shopping—with any luck, it would be her last trip.

June ate breakfast—alone, as usual—while Rita puttered around the kitchen. She tried to keep her mind from racing, so she focused on what Rita was saying about what she wanted her to get at the store. Rita took out the bag of tokens and pulled out the ones that June would need. After June finished eating, she put her cape, gloves and wings on, pocketed the tokens for the shopping, and headed out the door.

It was all she could do not to skip down the street, she was so excited. But she really needed to put a lid on that shit because Ofmatthew never missed a trick, and she would surely know that something was up and would probably report June. With that sobering thought, June opened up the compartment in her mind labelled “Offred” and greeted her walking partner with the customary “Blessed be the fruit” greeting. She kept a poker face the entire time they were walking, up until they entered the Loaves and Fishes market. The first person she saw was Janine, and her heart clutched. Janine was such a sweet soul, and she’d been through more trials than Job in Gilead. June wanted so badly to take everyone with her. She hated leaving her friends behind. _But if they had the chance to get out, they sure as hell would take it and wouldn’t wait to make sure I could come along with them. And I wouldn’t blame them a bit._ _Get it together June. Eye on the prize,_ she said to herself as she quickly retrieved all of the items that Rita wanted, then waited for Ofmatthew to be finished so they could check out together.

Janine came up to her and said, “the peaches are very fine today, Offred. You may want to bring some home to your Commander and his family.” Then she giggled and almost gave herself away. June hesitated, and decided it would call more attention to her if she didn’t go see whoever wanted to talk to her than if she just went and see what she wanted. She spotted Alma standing by the peaches, so she sidled up to her and exchanged the customary greeting.

“Mexico is threatening to open their borders to Gilead refugees,” Alma whispered.

“Really?” June asked.

“They can’t turn a blind eye to everyone trying to cross over the border, so they thought they’d put a process in place to make it easier and more official. Of course, this could all be a ploy to extract some sort of pound of flesh from Gilead. They are going to want to mess with the trade agreements too.”

“Do you know when this is going down?” June asked. “Not that it makes a bit of fucking difference to any of us, but all the same, it’s good to keep up with current events.”

“Gilead is obviously against it—they don’t want another bordering country to allow the droves of refugees to start crossing the border legally. And, they don’t want to lose their trade business, which up until now has been separate from the refugee issue. They’re going to send a secret delegation up tonight to try to change their minds. Your Commander is going,” Alma said.

“By himself?” June asked.

“No, a couple of other Commanders are going with him. Mine, and Commander Putman as well. They’re getting on a plane this afternoon. When he gets back, can you find out what he knows? You know, use your charm to get it out of him?” Alma asked.

“Well, unlike your Commander, Fred doesn’t demand morning blowjobs, and he hasn’t done any pillow talk with me since I got my daughter out of Gilead. But I’ll try.”

“Great. Under his eye.”

“Under his eye,” June replied.


	27. Mexico and Early Departures

Serena found out about the Mexican border situation when Fred arrived home unexpectedly in the late morning to pack a bag.

“Serena!” Fred yelled from his bedroom, summoning his wife.

In a few moments, Serena entered the room and said, “Yes dear? Going somewhere?”

“Mexico. Can you please get my toiletry kit together? I’m in a real hurry and you’re better at remembering details than I am,” Fred said.

Wordlessly, Serena went into his bathroom and collected all the usual items he would need—toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, deodorant, and a few extras, like antacids, for his weak stomach, and some black-market allergy pills. “Here you go, dear,” Serena said, depositing the travel kit next to the bag he was packing. “Are you going to bring a garment bag for your suit, or do you want me to roll it for you so you can pack it?"

“I’ll take a garment bag. Just get the one in the closet that I wear when I’m up shit’s creek without a paddle and am trying to be intimidating.”

“Got it,” Serena said, knowing exactly which suit he meant. “The last time you wore it was the day my finger was donated to the Gilead cause,” Serena said, sarcastically.

“Don’t Serena. I don’t have any patience for your bullshit today,” Fred said. “Those fucking Mexicans are opening the border to any and all Gilead refugees. They are threatening to cut off trade with Gilead too. We depend on them for their agriculture imports, and without them the food supply will be threatened. Not to mention the black-market tequila supply.”

“What’s your plan, Fred?” Serena asked.

“We need to hear them out, and figure out what we have that they need—then trade that.”

“What if what they need is for us to stop being so…Gilead.”

“We’ll throw them a bone. Tell them we’ll allow more rights for women. Let them read, maybe allow some to return to some sort of work beyond domestic servitude. And if all else fails, we’ll unveil our plan to phase out the need for Handmaids and eventually allow them a path to freedom…whatever it takes. We’ll instill fear in them about becoming another Canada, with an endless stream of refugees heading through their borders every single day.”

“That’s smart, Fred. Do you have a dummy plan drawn up for that ‘releasing the Handmaids’ option?”

“Actually, we have a real plan. We were planning on introducing the concept of eliminating the Ceremony altogether anyway. No one likes it—the Wives hate it, we Commanders hate it because let’s face it—unless you actually are a rapist, there’s no enjoyment in it, and the success rate for Commanders impregnating Handmaids is dismal. Instead, we’ll use invitro fertilization and use Handmaids as surrogates to carry the embryo through delivery—instead of the “natural” method. It’s more reliable and quick, and the Handmaids won’t have to live in the homes with the Wives and Commanders. They’ll stay at the Red Center under the watchful eyes of the Aunts for the duration of the pregnancy. Then, when the baby is born, it will be transferred immediately to the next woman in line for a child. There will be zero relationship between Wives, Commanders and Handmaids. It will all be very clinical. A woman will not ever know who gave birth to her child, and conversely for the Handmaid, who her baby went to. Under this plan, we would increase the birth rate by 50%, and after at least two pregnancies delivered full term, with healthy babies, the Handmaids will be given the option of staying in Gilead and becoming Marthas, or we might even allow them to reunite with their families that live in the United States and other countries—if they have shown good behavior. Handmaids will be less focused on killing us and more focused on having healthy pregnancies and being well-behaved—we’ll give them some hope to hang onto to ensure good behavior.”

“Wow, that’s really well-thought out, Fred. And incredibly humane. Who came up with that one?” Serena asked.

“Warren Putnam did. He’s forever changed since his Handmaid tried to kill his baby, and then turned around and saved her life. Naomi and Ofwarren have the only Wife/Handmaid relationship worse than yours and Offred’s,” Fred said, shaking his head and chuckling.

“Slow down, Fred…you’re making my head spin,” Serena said, sitting on the bed. _This is incredible. What the fuck kind of universe is this we are living in?_

Fred sat next to Serena and took her maimed hand in his. “The past few months have seen Gilead do some things that are just beyond the pale…and everyone has pretty much had it with trying to enforce a way of life that no one—not even the enforcers—believe in any more. So my job is to make Mexico believe that we are seriously re-evaluating our stance on human rights, particularly women’s rights. So how did I sound?” Fred asked. “Believable?”

“Yes, if I didn’t know you as well as I do,” Serena said.

“Let’s hope the Mexicans don’t know me as well as you do,” Fred said chuckling. I’ll be gone for 2 overnights, and possibly 3. We have a firm commitment from Mexico that they will allow us 48 hours minimum to negotiate our position, and it will take every minute of that time to make it happen. It will take time and resources away from preparing for the Chinese delegation, but that can’t be helped. I trust you’ll hold down the fort in my absence?”

“Yes, Fred,” Serena said demurely. “Have a safe trip, and I know you’ll be able to negotiate something with them—you’re so good at being persuasive.”

“I learned from the best—you,” he said, leaning down and kissing her cheek. He turned and walked out of the room, down the stairs, and Serena heard the front door close behind him. She left Fred’s room and went to her own room. She needed to sit and think and she needed to smoke—not in that order. Fred had just divulged a lot of information, and she needed to digest everything while trying not to panic. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag from it, blowing smoke out of the left side of her mouth and feeling calmness wash over her. _I hope they have cigarettes wherever I’m going, and I hope I can afford them._

After finishing her cigarette, she hurried downstairs, put on her sweater and went out to the garden, heading for the shed. The door was unlocked deliberately, and she entered and closed the door behind her. She felt under the shelf again, and was relieved to find a letter waiting for her. It must have been left between last night and just now, since she’d checked last night before bed. She tore the envelope open and began to read. The author clearly was up to speed on everything that was going on, including the Mexican border situation, the Gilead delegation, and the negotiations. The recommendation was to move up the departure by 24 hours—roughly 2 hours from now. The cover story she will use is that her mother is ill, and that she has to go be with her. _I’ll take_ _Offred with me because of course, she can’t be trusted on her own without me to watch over her every move. That will work, and won’t make Rita suspicious, and by the time Fred gets back in 2 days, we’re long gone and across the border. Fred has his driver engaged already, so I’ll have my own hand-picked driver, and we’ll be good to go. Now all I need is for June to get back from shopping._

Serena burned the letter in the shed, and swept the ashes outdoors, to blend in with the leaves and dirt. She went back into the house and went upstairs to pack a bag. She packed two dresses, along with the appropriate lingerie, shoes and toiletries—in case her bag was searched. She also tossed in a few contraband candy bars and nuts in case Hannah got hungry. Kids were always getting hungry, and complaining, weren’t they? She’d go without food for a week if she could get the fuck out of Gilead tonight.

She went upstairs to June’s room and grabbed her toothbrush, nightgown, socks and underwear, and folded everything and placed it into a smaller overnight bag for her. She decided to put June’s disguise in her own larger purse, so it would be with them in the backseat of the car and she could change right away. She could explain having a Martha uniform in her bag by saying that her mother needed to borrow a uniform, or it needed mending. Hiding the Handmaid dress that June would be changing out of might be a bit more challenging, but she’d think of something. She was headed back to her bedroom when she heard June’s voice from the kitchen. She dropped June’s bag in her room, smoothed her dress and hair, and walked purposefully to the kitchen, where she found June and Rita unpacking the groceries.

“Rita, my mother has taken ill suddenly, and I need to go stay with her for a few days. Commander Waterford is also gone for 2-3 days travelling for business. I’m taking Offred with me since she has a propensity for wandering off when she’s not watched 24/7. You’ll be on your own for a couple of days, so try not to do anything that will get you, or anyone in this house, hung on the wall, ok? You’ll have at least 2 guards in the house with you at all times, and 2 outside. You’ll be perfectly safe. Offred, come upstairs with me and you can get your things together. We’re leaving within the hour.”

“Would you like me to pack you any food, Mrs. Waterford?” Rita asked.

“That would be lovely Rita. Just some sandwiches and fruit if we have any,” Serena said, trying not to smile. She felt a bit badly that Rita wasn’t coming with them, but that was not part of the plan.

June apologized to Rita for leaving her with unpacking the groceries and followed Serena upstairs to her room. Serena closed the door behind them.

“Serena, is this it? Are we going?” June asked, barely daring to hope.

“Yes. This is it, and we are leaving.”

“What about Hannah?” June asked.

Serena closed the space between them, and took June’s face into her hands. “June, you need to trust me. You’ll see her very soon. What you do need to know is that the driver will be here no later than 2, and we’ll leave right away. In the car, you’ll change into a Martha uniform—Handmaids are too easily identified, so we can’t have you floating around in your crimson gear. We have less than an hour’s drive away—more like 25 minutes if there’s no traffic. Then we meet Hannah, and we get on a plane and we leave Gilead in the rear-view mirror.”

June’s eyes glistened with tears. “Not now, June,” Serena warned. “We have plenty of time to cry and throw up later. Right now, I need you to put your big girl panties on and be brave,” Serena said, unable to resist pulling June into a kiss that lasted longer than was prudent. As they reluctantly pulled away from each other, Serena asked June if there was anything that she needed from her room.

“Fuck no. I have everything I need right here,” June said, clasping Serena’s hand in hers.

“Great. I packed you some underwear and your toothbrush, just for show really—when we get to the plane, we’ll have regular clothes to change into so we won’t stick out so much,” Serena explained. “Come on—let’s bring the bags downstairs and wait for the driver in the sitting room, and try not to look so anxious.”

“I’ll just put my sullen Handmaid face on,” June said half-kidding.

“That’ll work. And by the way, if I don’t see that look after today, I’ll be all right with that.”

“Sure—as long as I never see the Mrs. Waterford face again, we have a deal,” June said smirking.

“Hmmmm…so I guess we both have some things to work on, right?” 


	28. Gilead in the Rear-View Mirror

Serena saw the car and driver pull up, and nodded to June. “Time to go.”

They said their brief good-byes to Rita, and the driver came up to the door to take their luggage. Looking directly at Serena, he said, “It’s a joyful day, Mrs. Waterford. I’m your driver, John. I hope you’ve brought warm clothes for your trip.”

“Yes, I understand we may be in for some rough weather,” Serena replied. “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability.”

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” John replied, nodding at Serena.

Serena suppressed a smile, “Under his eye.”

“Under his eye, ma’am,” John replied, as he loaded the luggage in the trunk of the car.

June got into the back seat of the car, and Serena rode in the front. John raised the privacy glass, which gave June the cover she needed to change into the Martha disguise, which she did, albeit awkwardly. The outfit was complete, down to the underwear, and she knew that in case they were captured, she better not be wearing Handmaid gear of any kind. She rolled her Handmaid clothing into a ball and shoved it under the seat and hoped the car wouldn’t be searched. _Well, if they stop us and search us, our goose is cooked. I sure hope Serena’s back up plan is in place, and I sure hope we don’t have to use it._

The thought of going the rest of the way without Serena didn’t frighten her—June knew how to be brave—this wasn’t her first escape. But the thought of having all of these ‘Serena-feelings’, and having her disappear before they can figure out what the hell is going on with them—that seemed like a psychological burden she didn’t know if she could bare. Somehow, Serena had become someone she depended on. _Oh, and desire, June...don't forget how much you desire her._ June didn't know if her complicated feelings would follow her into Canada, or if they would disappear as soon as she was free and able to make her own choices. She put all of her faith and trust in this habitually unstable woman, who was becoming more stable by the day. Ever since they’d made their deal—to escape together and share Nichole—Serena was very different—at least when she was alone with June. She could still be a vengeful, cruel woman, but she had the gift of self-awareness and, June supposed, that was a good chunk of the battle. She had become teachable, and motivated to change. _But how long will that last? Just how delusional am I being right now?_

June sat back and looked out the window, watching people walking on the street. She resisted looking behind her for the car that was supposedly their back-up rescue plan. Their car was coming up to the first checkpoint, so she tried to look calm as John rolled down the car window, and the privacy screen. The guard would need to see everyone in the vehicle, as well as their identification.

“Good afternoon Mrs. Waterford. Where are you heading today?” the guard asked politely.

“Visiting my mother. She’s ill and needs me to take care of her for a few days. I brought my Martha with me as she is skilled at healing.”

“Very good,” the guard said as he looked at all of the identification papers. “Safe travels.”

“Under his eye,” John replied smoothly, rolling up the window and pulling the car away. June noticed that the car pulled onto the highway and headed west. She didn’t know which airport they were going to, but she guessed it would be a tiny, out-of-commission airport. At least, that’s what she would do if she were plotting their escape. _Serena knows what she’s doing and she’s a survivor. She planned this out carefully a long time ago, and I’m sure she’s thought of everything._

In just a short time, the car pulled off the highway, and traveled about 5 miles down a road that looked a lot like the old Route 2 in Massachusetts—very suburban, but pretty, with lots of green space. They took a left and went down a dirt road for another mile. Then John stopped the car, got out, and unlocked the gate with a key he had in his pocket. He opened the gate, drove the car through, then got out of the car again and locked the gate behind him. June was grateful there was no snow today, and their car tracks would not be visible. She hoped and prayed the vehicle’s GPS tracker had been removed or disabled—otherwise, they were going to be caught before they even left.

The car took a circuitous route, to one of the airplane hangers that was the furthest away from the gate. The driver parked the car along the side of the building, got out, and opened the door for June to exit—Serena had already let herself out.

An older gentleman approached them, with a wide smile on his face. He made a beeline for Serena, and embraced her warmly, kissing each of her cheeks. “Mon dieu, it’s been a long time, ma belle fille! And how you’ve grown! Your father would be so proud of you, if he were still here with us.”

“Jacques, it so good to see you. And thank you so much for doing this for us. It means everything,” Serena said warmly.

“Your father saved my life. His dying wish was that I always look after you. I’m just honoring the promise of one friend to another,” Jacques said. “But enough of this, ma belle! Come around to the back—the plane is ready for you.”

Before following Jacques, Serena turned to John and said, “Make sure you wipe down the car completely, and burn everything—not a trace—understand?” Serena said.

“Yes Mrs. Waterford. And…thank you…for everything,” John said, his voice catching. June supposed that Serena had rewarded him handsomely. She made a mental note to add 'how she rewarded the driver' to her list of questions to ask when they were not in the middle of escaping hell.

“June come on—we have to go now,” Serena said as she grabbed her hand and ran towards the plane. Jacques helped both women board the plan, and June’s heart almost stopped when she saw her daughter’s sweet, but frightened face, looking up at her from her seat. “Mommy!” Hannah cried, throwing her arms open to June, who crushed her in an embrace.

Serena gently steered June into the seat next to Hannah, and made sure they were both buckled in before she buckled herself in. Meanwhile, Jacques closed the cabin door and took the pilot’s seat. Serena held her breath while he started the engines and immediately started rolling down the abandoned runway, and she didn’t exhale until the wheels had left the ground. Her anxiety level reduced substantially when Jacques reached a higher altitude. The flight path they chose was off the beaten path, and not used by the state-sanctioned airline, or the military for that matter. And Jacques was an experienced fighter pilot—a Colonel in the Royal Canadian Air Force, and her father’s best friend in college. He would lay his life down for Serena, and Serena prayed that he wouldn’t have to.


	29. Up, up and away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I enjoy cliffhangers, I couldn't let the weekend end without letting the girls get a little further along on their escape. Thanks for hanging in there with me, and if you're digging the story, drop me a comment ❤😘

As the plane leveled out to a more comfortable altitude, Serena looked over at June and Hannah. They were still clutching each other--June mumbling comforting endearments to Hannah, while their tears continued to flow. Serena felt a tear escape her own eye, and she quickly brushed it away, reaching under the seat for the bag that she knew was waiting for her. She picked it up and put in on her lap, and unzipped it to examine its contents. Three passports were tucked into the inside pocket, with new identities for each of them. There was a large bundle of cash layering the bottom, and there were civilian clothes, which she pulled out of the bag.

“Here June—get Hannah dressed in these new clothes, and then get yourself dressed. We need to get out of these outfits and start assuming our new identities,” Serena said, catching Hanna’s piercing eyes locked onto hers.

“Mommy, who is that lady?” she whispered loudly to June.

“This is Mommy’s friend, Serena. She’s the one who is getting us out of here so we can be together again.”

“Hi!” Hannah said brightly. “You’re very pretty for a Wife,” she said and Serena and June both burst out laughing.

“Well hi Hannah! I’ve heard so much about you from your Mommy. Let’s get out of these stupid clothes and put something more normal on, ok?”

“Yay! I hate this pink stuff—remember Mommy, how much I hate pink? And it’s the only color they let me wear,” Hannah said pouting. “But look—I’ve got jeans to wear!” Hannah said excitedly as June unbuckled her and kneeled down to help her out of her Gilead uniform, and into her regular girl’s outfit of jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt with “girl-power” written on it. June smirked at Serena when she finished dressing. “Girl power, eh Serena? Nice touch.”

“I thought so," Serena said as she shimmied into a pair of black slacks. She’d already dispensed with her dress and heels and was wearing a button-downed shirt and a warm cardigan cable-net sweater, with a sweet pair of black leather boots. As a last step, Serena unpinned her hair and brushed out her long hair with her fingers. “Ah, that’s so much better!” Serena said releasing a big sigh. June took in the sight of Serena, not in her Wife’s uniform, and her mouth went dry. There were no words for her to say what she was feeling in that moment. June’s gawking was interrupted by her daughter’s voice excitedly saying, “Mommy, it’s your turn—get that stupid Martha dress off you right now!”

“Yes ma’am,” June said as she undressed and unpinned her hair. She exchanged her Gilead-issued bra and underwear, for more contemporary underthings, and pulled on a white t-shirt topped by a green sweater. She slid on a pair of black jeans that fit her like a glove, and was delighted to find a pair of very fashionable brown boots to complete the ensemble. She caught Serena looking at her, and smirked as she saw her eyes moving from top to bottom and back to the top again, pausing somewhere around her lips, and stopping at June’s eyes.

“Whoever your stylist is, Serena, they need to get a big tip,” June said smiling.

“Yeah, these clothes are really cool!” Hannah said excitedly.

“I’ll be sure to let them know,” Serena said smiling. “We should be warm enough for now, but we’ll have outdoor coats and gloves when we get off the plane.

“Serena,” Jacques called out. “We have 30 minutes until we land. Take your identity papers out and start memorizing them. We don’t expect any issues with customs, but you never know.”

Serena opened up June’s passport, committed it to memory and passed it to June, who did the same. Then she opened Hannah’s and repeated the process.

“Hannah, I told you we are on a secret mission to escape Gilead, right?” June said. “And we have to take on new identities—because we don’t want to get caught and brought back there, ok?”

“What’s a new identity?” Hannah asked.

“You know how Wonder Woman was really named Diana Prince, because no one could know that she was really Wonder Woman?” Serena said.

“Right—I remember that. What’s my new name?” Hannah asked, as June opened her passport to show her.

“It’s Holly…Holly Prince—your first name is just like your grandmother’s, and your last name is just like Wonder Woman, so it will be easy to remember,” June said, wiping a tear away quickly and looking up at Serena with gratitude and amazement. _How the fuck does she go from being a complete and total cunt to being a sweet, and thoughtful angel and rescuer? I’m going to need her to put a big wad of $50s into the therapy jar…I’m definitely going to need a lot of psychoanalysis to unravel all of this._

“Yay! I love my new name! It’s way better than Agnes MacKenzie. I never really liked that, and you and Daddy were the only ones who ever called me Hannah and that was a long time ago. What’s your name Mommy?” Hannah asked.

“Let’s see…my name is Elizabeth…Prince, like yours,” June said, considering it for a moment and nodding her approval to Serena.

“And what’s your new name, Serena?” Hannah asked in a sweet voice that Serena was quickly falling in love with.

“It’s Suzanne,” Serena said quickly, looking away.

“Serena, may I see your passport, please,” June said in a voice that said ‘don’ fuck with me’. Serena handed over the passport.

“Her last name is the same as ours, honey,” June said sweetly, glaring at Serena. It’s Prince, to make it easy for all of us to remember, and it means that we are all a family, travelling together. Honey, could you excuse me for just a minute while I talk to ‘Suzanne’,” June said as she crossed the aisle and took the seat next to Serena.

“Look, before you start, I didn’t have a ton of control over the fake identities,” Serena explained, eager to deflate June’s escalating anger. “We needed three female, family-related identities, and the only real criteria was that they be good enough to pass as the real thing under government scrutiny. Remember, I’m trying to stay out of prison,” Serena said.

“So what are we—married?” June said trying not to yell at Serena.

“No! I mean, that could have been one interpretation, but we would have had to fake a marriage certificate too, and that would have been a lot. You are Holly’s mother, and you were married to my brother, David Prince, who died tragically in a car accident. I’m your sister-in-law, Suzanne. I’ve been helping you raise Holly since he died. We’re very close,” Serena said, keeping her face neutral, while inside, she was trying not to giggle.

“Well good, at least we aren’t blood relatives,” June said, leaning over to whisper in Serena’s ear, “because it’s bad enough that we’ve been fucking as Wife and Handmaid—I wouldn’t want to add sisterly-incest to our list of sins.”

Serena smirked, and said out loud, so Hannah could hear, “Oh, and we aren’t from Gilead, obviously. We’re citizens of the United Kingdom, which makes us able to travel through Canada, UK, Ireland and Wales on the same passport.” "Good.” Hannah said. “I don’t ever want to say I’m from Gilead. I hated that place. They didn’t let me read, or write or anything.”

“Well, all that is behind us,” June said, as the seat belt sign flashed and she returned to her seat next to Hannah and made sure they were both buckled in. Serena closed up the bag and stowed it under the seat.

As the plane descended, the sun had begun to set, and the sky looked beautiful—and full of possibilities. Serena gripped the armrest as the flaps opened, and she felt the wheels of the plane drop and snap into place. She wasn’t a nervous flyer, but this trip was an exception. _So close…we’re so close to freedom, I can taste it._ She looked over at June, who had tears streaming down her face. When their eyes met, June mouthed the words ‘thank you’, and Serena smiled and turned away.


	30. Destination: Halifax, Nova Scotia

As the wheels touched down, Serena relaxed her grip on the armrest, and released the breath she had been holding. _Just a few more hurdles to jump over, and we are in the clear._ As Jacques taxied the plane to a full stop, he talked on the airplane's communication system for a few minutes, before moving to the passenger area to give Serena an update.

“Well, ma chouette, this part of your journey is complete. It has been my honor and privilege to serve you,” Jacques said as he took Serena’s hand and kissed it, noticing with alarm that she was missing a finger.

“It’s nothing, Jacques. Now that we’re free of that place, the loss of a pinky is a small sacrifice,” Serena said, kissing him on both cheeks. “When I get settled, I’ll be in touch. You and I need to sit and have a bottle or two of wine and swap stories about my dad.”

“Absolutely, my dear. Nothing would make me happier,” Jacques said, as he went to open the cabin door and lower the stairs.

“Ok everyone, let’s go, and make sure you have your passports,” Serena said as she stood up, slid her bag on her shoulder, and put her passport in her back pocket. They walked off the plane, and a blast of cold, fresh air hit Serena’s face, and it felt like a kiss from God. _I’ll need to figure all of that God shit out too, but there’s time for that later_ , she thought.

They were not at a commercial airport, but at a Canadian military airport. The plane that had flown them out of Gilead was a Royal Canadian military plane, fully equipped with radar-jamming equipment to elude any attempt at capture. About 100 yards to the left of the plane, Serena spotted a black limousine, with a driver standing in front of it, and headed towards it, followed by June and Hannah. He was holding a sign that said “Prince”, which made June chuckle. He bowed to them, and took Serena’s bag and stowed it in the trunk. June made note of the Diplomatic license plates and once again, marveled at Serena’s skills at planning and executing this escape. _If I thought Serena Waterford was sexy, this Suzanne Prince is going to give her a run for her money—I’m already smitten._

The three of them piled into the back seat of the very luxurious limo and got comfortable. Serena, always the hostess, spied the mini fridge and opened it to find several juice boxes, bottles of water and two small bottles of champagne. _Why the fuck not. I think it’s time to celebrate,_ Serena thought as she passed Hannah a juice box, and dug out two plastic cups that were hidden in a pocket behind the driver’s seat. “Here, hold these,” Serena said, handing June both cups as she proceeded to pop the champagne, trying to be careful not to hit anyone in the eye with it. She managed to remove the cork without harming anyone--or damage the car--and put her mouth over the top of the bottle to catch the bubbles before they spilled all over her. June laughed and commented that Serena still had work do do on her sharing skills.

Once the bubbles stopped pouring into her mouth, Serena poured two glasses and placed the empty bottle in the trash bin off to the side. June handed her a glass, and said, “I think we need to make a toast. To freedom,” she said, clinking her glass with Serena’s and then against Hannah’s juice box.

“I’ll drink to that, Mommy!” Hannah said, as everyone took a sip.

“How long is the drive, Serena, and where’s our next stop?” June asked.

“It’s about an hour and a half from the airstrip we just left. We’re going to Halifax, Nova Scotia.”

“That’s the capital isn’t it? And perhaps a a stop at the United Kingdom consulate?” June said, lifting her eyebrow.

“Actually, no. There is only one consulate in Halifax, and that belongs to the United States. We _are_ traveling with diplomatic immunity, though,” Serena explained.

“I’m not going to throw a bunch of questions at you right now, Serena. I’m just going to sip this champagne, and sit back and relax in this nice limousine, and say once again, thank you—for all of this. I’m sure whatever you’ve arranged for us will keep us safe, and that’s the only thing I care about,” June said. _And whatever she’s got cooked up will absolutely include Nichole and getting her back with us, so I’m not worried about that either. She’d never leave Nichole out of the plan._

“I promise I’ll tell you everything, but it’s a lot. And you probably just want to breathe a little and spend time with Hannah—you two have a lot of catching up to do,” Serena said.

The car ride passed quickly, as the three of them were all a bit giddy from actually escaping—and not being caught—yet. June tried to keep her hopes from rising too high, for a fall now would feel devastating. But factually speaking:

  * They were in Canada
  * They had new identities
  * They were in a consulate’s car, and Serena was travelling under diplomatic immunity



As much as she wanted to fret, there just wasn’t a lot to worry about.

Hannah curled up against the door and passed out, either from exhaustion, fear, or both.

The driver lowered the partition and handed Serena a cell phone. “Madamoiselle Prince, the call is for you.”

“Merci Georges,” Serena said with a perfect French accent.

“Bonjour? Oui, c’est Suzanne. Oh merci beaucoup. Nous sommes arrivés sains et saufs et sans incident. Nous sommes dans la voiture dipomatic et nous nous dirigeons vers Halifax. Y a-t-il quelque chose que je devrais savoir avant d'arriver à notre prochaine destination? Oh vraiment? Et bien ce sera ravissant de voir Jean-Guy. Oui, je vais m'enregistrer avec lui avant de nous rendre au refuge. Très bien, au revoir! 1” Serena said, ending the call and passing the phone back to Georges.

June stared at Serena, her eyes as large as saucers. She counted to 10, then she counted to 20, then she counted to 30, and let out a breath she’d been holding for quite awhile.

“You do know that I speak French fluently, right?” June said.

“Yes, I do. I read your Gilead file cover to cover—more than once,” Serena replied, a bit coolly. “And I know that based on what you just heard, you have a million questions that feel very urgent to you. And I promise you—as soon as we are in a secure location, and Hannah is fast asleep, I will stay up all night with you and tell you everything.”

“Everything?” June asked. “Even super-secret, double-agent, spy stuff that you probably shouldn’t tell anyone unless you kill them afterwards?”

“Everything,” Serena said, her face betraying nothing. “But you might have to marry me so our conversations will be covered by spousal privilege, in case anything ever goes to court.”

“Haha, very funny Serena,” June said, looking at Serena and hoping she would crack a smile. _Fuck, she’s not joking._

“We can cross that bridge later if it comes up. But be ready for a shotgun wedding at any time,” Serena said, a smile plastered across her face.

“Serena has jokes,” June said sullenly. “Well maybe I don’t want to know everything if I’m going to have to marry you to keep our secrets safe. Although, this is me, we’re talking about, and you know I need to know everything, starting way back in the way back machine.”

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, June. I promise,” Serena said.

“But I need to know one thing now—was the last two weeks—was that real?” June asked, her face betraying her fear.

“Come here,” Serena said, as she pulled June across the aisle to sit beside her. She put her arms around June, and held her in a tight embrace. June was ready to fall apart, and this moment of kindness wasn’t helping.

Serena brought her lips up to June’s ear, and whispered softy, so Hannah wouldn’t hear, “Yes, it’s 100% real. The way I feel about you is real. The intimacy we’ve shared, and I hope we continue to share—that’s 100% real. Real enough for me to pull the ripcord on my life in Gilead and leave it for a brighter future with you.”

Serena felt June stifle a sob and snuggle in closer to Serena, laying her head against her chest. “Fuck I hate you sometimes, you miserable lying cunt,” June whispered. “But I can’t hate you because you just rode in on a white horse and rescued me from that hell-hole and reunited me with my daughter—and I have no doubt that a reunion with Nichole can’t be far behind.”

“Oh June—you’re such a sweet-talker,” Serena said, still whispering and taking the opportunity to deposit a kiss on the top of June’s head. “I just love the way ‘miserable cunt’ rolls off your tongue. It gives me tingles.”

“You forgot ‘lying’. That’s miserable lying cunt,” June clarified, looking over at Hannah to make sure she was still asleep, and lifting her head to press her lips to Serena’s in a kiss that melted all of her anger away. “God-damn it, why can’t I stay mad at you for more than 2 minutes?”

“Don’t ask me—I have the same problem with you.”

**Translations:**

1 Hello? Yes, it’s Suzanne. Oh, thank you very much. We arrived safely and without incident. We are in the dipomatic car, and headed for Halifax. Is there anything I should know about before we get to our next destination? Oh really? Well it will be lovely to see Jean-Guy. Yes, I will check in with him before we go to the safe house. All right, bye!


	31. ACME Inc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've made it out of Gilead...what's in store for our heroes?

The car pulled up in front of an official, yet nondescript, government-looking building. “If you two wouldn’t mind waiting in the car, I need to go inside for a quick minute,” Serena said, waiting for June’s approval before she got out of the car.

“Um—I’m sorry Serena, but that doesn’t feel like a good idea to me. I don’t know where we are, I don’t really know what you’ve been up to, and you’re suggesting that me and my daughter stay behind in a limousine with a driver we don’t know, while you go inside and do god knows what for how long. We could be kidnapped. We could be arrested. We could get dragged back to Gilead. Nope. I don’t like it one bit.”

“I’m sorry—of course you’re scared and nervous,” Serena said. “Change of plans--let’s all go inside together, ok?”

They exited the car and followed Serena into the building. A security guard opened the door for them without checking anyone’s credentials, which was sort of comforting to June. Gilead was the kind of place where you just did not want to poke your nose outdoors without identification and a real god-damned good reason for being anywhere other than inside your house. Serena walked up to the front desk, signed in, and gave her name to the desk guard. He nodded and pointed to the elevators, and Serena motioned for June and Hannah to join her. They took the elevator to the 31st floor, and there was yet another guard stationed in front of that door. There was no signage of any sort identifying the office—it was as generic as anything June had ever seen. The guard opened the door for them, again, without asking for identification, and the three of them walked inside.

“June, would you and Hannah mind waiting here in the lobby? I need to meet with Jean Guy LaPierre briefly—just to check in—before we go to the place we’re staying in. His office is just down the hall.” Again, Serena waited for June’s agreement before she left them there.

“Sure. That sounds fine. Even though this is a generic, no name office, in a generic, no name office building somewhere in Halifax, Nova Scotia, if that is indeed where we are,” June said suspiciously.

“June, give it a rest. We’re all tired and on edge. Just pour yourself a coffee, relax, and I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Serena said, shaking her head as she walked down the corridor. _I’m trying to cut her some slack, but does she ever shut the snark off?_

“Serena,” June said, causing Serena to turn around and face her, “I’m really sorry—I’m just—you know, freaked out.”

“I know. Just rest, please. Maybe there’s a television in the waiting area you can watch, or if you’re lucky, a newspaper,” Serena said, walking down the corridor. June watched her walk about halfway down, stop at one of the closed doors, knock, and then enter. _At least I know where she is if she gets swallowed up by some counter-spy terrorist network and she abandons us here. Jesus, I’m dark. When the fuck did I get so dark? Oh right….Gilead. That would make Mother Teresa dark._

“Mommy, can I look at the magazine?” Hannah said, pointing at a copy of _Chatelaine_.

“How about we look at it together?” June suggested, not knowing what kind of magazine it might be and also not wanting to be a bad mother the first back on the job. June sat next to Hannah, put her arm around her and then opened the magazine across their laps so they could both see it. June turned the pages while Hannah pointed out different pictures that caught her eye, and asked about different make-up advertisements. She realized, sadly, that Hannah didn’t know how to read, and had missed several years of school that she would somehow need to make up. _That’s part of the collateral damage of escaping Gilead. We’re all behind the eight-ball in one way or another._ _Hannah needs to learn how to read and write, Serena needs to learn how to be a human being, and I need to learn how to be a lesbian._

Hannah paused at an article that showed a picture of two women and a little girl laughing outdoors, doing something outside together. “Mommy, can you read me this story, please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” June said and proceeded to read the story about how a lesbian got into a relationship with a woman who had a young daughter. It focused on how she was able to forge a relationship with the child and how it strengthened the family's bond. After she finished the article, Hannah asked if they could watch TV, so June tracked down the remote and switched it to a children’s educational show.

While Hannah was occupied, June mulled over the article that she’d just read to Hannah. She was pleased that Hannah had not asked about the word lesbian, or asked a million questions about the story. ‘Love is love’ was June and Luke’s mantra to Hannah, and if nothing else stuck in her mind, she was grateful that a pearl of wisdom had survived. She's also had her Aunt Moira in her life forever, so she certainly had context. She was also relieved--and felt guilty for feeling relieved--that Hannah didn’t seem to have a lot of memories of when she and Luke were together and they were a family. She was too young when she was taken from June and spirited off to her new ‘family’ to remember--and she’d also been brainwashed--June was just glad that she remembered her as her mom. _That’s going to need to be enough for now. The other memories might come back someday, and we'll deal with it then._

Since she had a little bit of time, she played out the escape they had just gone through in her head, marveling at how well planned and executed it had been. Serena had a LOT of friends in high places, and it was clear to June that she had a lot of clout in this new world that they’re entering. Some of what transpired was a surprise—like the driver being one of Serena’s men, and the pilot being an old friend of her dad’s. Serena had been brutally honest with her the night she told her about the plan--that they would need to have new identities and new lives if they were going to stay hidden and safe. _And I promised that I’d be ok with that. That I’d be ok with never going back to being June Osborne again—all to keep me and Hannah safe._ Gilead was not without resources—both diplomatic and covert. If she were to live in the open with Hannah under their old names, Serena could not promise their safety. And Serena knew for sure that she herself would never be safe under the name Gilead knew her by.

Serena had actually given June a choice—a new life and new identities with her, or her old life, and old identity without her. Because no matter what, Serena Waterford had to disappear, but she wanted—no she needed—June to make her own choice about how she wanted to live out the rest of her life. They had enough resentments to work through to last a lifetime—Serena didn't want June to feel forced into this life-she wanted June to own the choice. June, ever the survivor, was smart enough to know that a life on the run from Gilead for the rest of her life was not freedom. 

Serena was also quite clear that she was not certain when, or if, June would ever be able to be in touch with her family and friends. She wasn’t being a controlling bitch about it—just factual. And it made sense. June getting in touch with anyone from her past would blow their cover wide open, and unfortunately, that included Luke and Moira. And she’d thought about it carefully and choose a life with Serena—in whatever capacity they were able to live with. A fresh start, with new identities, was the best way to stay hidden. None of them could risk being discovered. There was always a chance that if they were caught, they would be hauled back to Gilead as some sort of political chess move—or they might just be kidnapped and brought back quietly, just so that they could be punished. _Aunt Lydia will pluck my eyeballs out of my head herself—no cattle prod needed._

This was all way too much thinking, and it was making June’s head hurt. _I’m_ _complicating the shit out of this. I’m free, and I have Hannah, and we’re both safe and being taken care of by Serena, the super-spy she-ro. Let that be enough, for god’s sake. Watch a cartoon, watch Hannah laugh—we’re all free, and no one is going to take Hannah from me while there’s a breath in my body. Everything else can wait. I already know I can’t—I won’t—step back into my old life with Luke and try to make that work as a family. I’ll only hurt and disappoint him, and make myself miserable trying to be the June that he knew. That June is dead. I’m Elizabeth Prince now, and I have my daughter Holly, and I’m living with my hot sister-in-law, Suzanne Prince, who I have lustful thoughts about all the fucking time. That’s a lot, and that’s enough._

June’s thoughts were interrupted when Serena walked into the waiting room accompanied by a tall, handsome, scruffy-looking French guy.

“You must be Elizabeth,” Jean Guy said, extending his hand to June. “I’ve heard so much about you and your daughter Holly. Welcome to Halifax. I know you all must be exhausted, so I won’t keep you, but I’d like you to take one of my cards, Elizabeth, and if there’s anything at all that you need, please don’t hesitate to call. Or, you can always sic this one on me,” he said laughing, pointing his finger at Serena. “You are all part of our family now, and we take good care of our family.”

“Yeah, she’s a pit bull, all right,” June said smiling, and taking his card. The card read _Jean-Guy LaPierre, Executive Director, ACME Industries_ , with a Halifax address, office number and cell number. _Yeah, this guy is with MI6 or something_ , June thought, actually taking some comfort in all of this cloak and dagger stuff. _I’ll get the truth out of her later. We have time._

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, and I hope you find your accommodations acceptable. Suzanne, we’ll let you all have some time to settle in, and when you’re rested and ready, we’ll talk again,” Jean-Guy said, as he walked the three of them to the elevator.


	32. In a House by the Sea

They rode the elevator down in silence, and returned to the limo. Serena spoke to the driver before getting in, and as soon as Georges was settled behind the wheel, they drove off.

June sat next to Hannah again, and when Serena went to sit across from them, June pulled her down into the seat next to her. “I want to be in a Serena-Hannah sandwich!” June said, pulling both of them into a tight embrace. They clung to each other for a few long moments, and when they separated, June kept her arm around Hannah, and intertwined her fingers with Serena’s, and placed her hand on Serena’s thigh. The car was driving along the coast, and before long, pulled up in front of a very nice, two story, single-family house with a kick-ass view of the ocean and a killer deck.

“Wow Mommy! Is this where we are going to live?” Hannah asked. “Can we go to the ocean tomorrow?”

“I guess we'll be here awhile, and we’ll see about going to the ocean tomorrow,” June responded, shrugging her shoulders at Serena, falling right back into the role of the non-committal parent, wary of making promises that a small child would never forget, and that she might not be able to commit to.

“You’re so good with her, June.”

“Thanks. I like the way you are with her, too.” June said. “Keep doing that, and we’ll all be fine.”

Serena looked pleased at June’s praise, which was still pretty much a rarity.

Georges pulled out Serena’s bag from the car, and walked it up to the front door. He unlocked the door, handed the key to Serena, and deposited the bag in the vestibule. “Madamoiselle, there is another key on the kitchen counter for Madamoiselle Elizabeth. The house has been well-stocked with groceries, and if you desire, there are several restaurants that deliver—there are menus on the counter as well, and keys to the car that is parked in the driveway. It is for your personal use, and it has diplomatic plates, so you should have no trouble with anyone. If something does come up, there are cellphones for each of you, and they’ve been activated and programmed with several numbers for ACME. Keep those numbers handy, including mine. I’m always at your service, day or night.”

“Thank you, Georges. You’ve made this a painless and smooth transition for us,” Serena said, kissing both of his cheeks.

“Mais oui, Madamoiselle. It is the very least that we can do for you,” Georges said as he smiled, tipped his hat and headed out the door.

Hannah immediately ran around the downstairs to check out all the rooms—the big screen TV got a big thumbs-up from her. Then she headed upstairs to check out the bedrooms. “Mommy, which one of these rooms is going to be mine?”

“I don’t know pumpkin, let’s see. Come on Serena—you get a say, too,” June said, and Serena dutifully followed June upstairs. There was a huge bedroom at the end of the hallway, with a balcony overlooking the ocean. There was an attached bathroom, connected with the bedroom on the other side, which was almost as large as the master, and had its own balcony. The room next to the master was set up as an office, with a large desk and the walls were lined with bookshelves. Next to the office was a smaller bedroom, with a single bed, two dressers, and a large closet. There was a shelf with children’s books, and a number of puzzles and games stacked up on the bottom shelf. The bed had an assortment of stuffed animals, and there was even a very pretty doll, sitting on top of the dresser. Across the hall from that room was another bedroom, but it was set up for a younger child, and it included a crib, a changing table, and a dresser.

“Pumpkin, how about this room for you?” June said, pointing to the room with the single bed.

“Yay! This is the one I wanted!” Hannah squealed with delight. “Can I play in my room for awhile, Mommy?” Hannah asked.

“Sure pumpkin. Me and Serena are going to go arm wrestle to see who gets the bigger bedroom,” June said laughing, as the two women walked back down the hallway, hand-in-hand, to the master bedroom.

“Serena, how long are we here for and how the fuck are we paying for this?” June asked quietly. “This house is amazing, but I think I’m missing a few pages in this book, and I know we don’t have time to catch me up right now, but we will soon, right?”

Serena pulled June into her arms and silenced her with a kiss that was slow, deliberate, really sexy, and made June’s head swim. “Pick a room baby—whichever one you want,” Serena said, her voice low and a little rough.

“Fuuuuuckkkkkkkk…so that’s what it feels like when you call me baby and we are dressed in normal clothes, living in the real world, and we’re just two girls who can’t keep their hands off of each other,” June said, shutting up long enough to pull Serena into another kiss, because, well…she could.

“No, you pick a room, sweetheart,” June said, and it was Serena’s turn to blush. “I see what you mean—those endearments take on a whole new meaning when we’re both here of our own free will and are not under any imminent threat of being killed,” Serena said, putting her hands in June’s back pockets and pulling her close.

“I have a crazy idea, so go ahead and say no if you want to,” June said.

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t want my own room. I want to share one with you,” June said in a soft voice.

“I love that—I really do. I hated sleeping apart from you while we were being all clandestine, but do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, won’t you need privacy, to think your thoughts, and dream your dreams, and plot how you’re going to get away from me?” Serena said, only half kidding.

“I don’t need a whole room for that. But if you don’t want to share a room, I understand. Neither of us have shared a room in a really long time. I’ll just take this one and you can have the other one.”

“Umm…ok,” Serena said, walking through the bathroom into the other room. “This room really is just as nice as the other one. It’s just missing that giant, luscious-looking king-sized bed. But if I really want one, I can buy one I suppose.”

“Or perhaps I could invite you into mine?” June said, lifting her eyebrow suggestively.

“Well, I certainly hope so! But seriously, June, we’re putting a lot of fucking pressure on ourselves right now,” Serena said carefully. “This house has plenty of room. And whichever room we end up spending the most time in will end up being our room—I don’t care which one it is. I’ll just be grateful whenever we can spend the night together. The other will be like the spare bedroom, or the one that you send me to when we have a fight.”

“Thanks Serena. That’s really thoughtful of you,” June said. “I figured I’d take this one because the office will end up being yours, so it’s sort of even.”

“There’s a downstairs playroom for the kids, too. And a nice backyard.”

“Serena, it’s perfect. I love it. Hannah loves it. And not to pester you, but can I ask if we are 100% safe now? Are the police going to come and arrest you for anything I should know about? And is the house going to get repossessed when we don’t have money to make mortgage payments?”

“No way. Not possible. We are 100% safe. I’m no longer Serena Waterford, and Suzanne Prince has committed no crimes. I have an iron-clad, irrevocable deal. And you, and Hannah, and Nichole, are intrinsic to that deal. And this house belongs to us and we can stay as long as we want. And if we want to move somewhere else, we can sell it and buy something else,” Serena said, flopping down on the bed in her room. “Oh, my god, this is so comfortable—it makes my last bed feel like a bed of nails! Come feel this,” Serena said, patting the space next to her on the bed.

“If I lay down on that bed next to you, Hannah is going to end up getting an eyeful, and I don’t want to scar her on her first day. Maybe the second day she can catch us in the act, but not the first day. I’m going to have to have a talk with her about Mommy’s special ‘friend’, Serena.”

“She’s a smart kid. She already gets it. She asked me if you and me were married now,” Serena said, grinning.

“No, she did not!” June said, fairly horrified.

“Would it be so bad if we were?” Serena said, that cold tone creeping back into her voice.

“Slow your roll, and stand down, Mrs. Waterford. I’m not horrified at the concept that we would be married. But my daughter—who, up until today, I’ve not seen for more than 10 minutes in the past 5 years--thinks that you and I are already married. It’s like she has no memory of me being with anyone before.”

“Perhaps she got the idea because we’re very affectionate with each other,” Serena explained. “I told her that we weren’t married right now, but we really, really, really liked each other a whole lot, so that’s why we were always goofing around and kissing and hugging and holding hands. She seemed to accept that without any problem, so I think you can relax.”

“You handled that really well. I’m impressed,” June said, lying down next to Serena on the bed. “Fuck, you’re right. This bed is heavenly! Can we sleep in your bed tonight?” June asked hopefully.

“Sure. I’ll even provide turn-down service and if I can scrape up a mint from the kitchen, I’ll make sure to put one on your pillow. Nothing but the finest for my, ummm…my June. Can we still call each other by our real names, sometimes—because I gotta tell you, the way you say my name makes my nipples stiff, every single time.”

“Really... _Serena_?” June said, just to watch her squirm “We’ll have to see—I don’t want to get confused and blow our cover—and I bet I can say your new name just as sexy for you,” June said. “Don’t pout! All right, on special occasions, I’ll still say ‘Serena’ in that _parseltongue_ dialect you adore—especially when you’re ready to come for me,” June said as she rolled over on top of Serena and ghosted her lips on Serena’s, and then…

“Mommy!” Hannah called from down the hall. “I’m hungry! Can we have dinner?”

“And for the first of what will become 10,000 more times over the course of the next couple of decades or so, a child will interrupt what might have been a very sexy encounter between us. Sure sweetheart! We’ll be right there,” June said, as captured Serena’s lips in hers in a delicious, albeit brief, kiss. “That will need to hold you until bed time. Now let’s see what I can cook up for dinner for us.”

“I can cook if you want,” Serena said. “I mean, I suck at it, but I’m willing to try.”

“How about you be my sous chef, and handle clean up?” June suggested as they both got up off the bed and headed down the hallway to see about dinner.


	33. Kids and their questions

June’s culinary skills were quite impressive, and both Hannah and Serena were very appreciative of her efforts. June noticed one good thing that had come out of Gilead—Hannah was anything BUT a picky eater. The quality of the food had been so poor, and the selection so sparse, that she was delighted to dig into the meal of stir-fried chicken with sugar snap peas, carrots, peppers, bok choy and rice and didn’t fuss about any of the unusual ingredients. They were all starving, and made quick work of June’s delicious meal. For dessert, they unwrapped a huge basket of fruit that had been left for them by ACME.

“Oh, my god, this is the best orange I’ve had in my life!” June exclaimed, while a dribble of juice slithered down her chin. Quick as a cat, Serena’s finger reached out captured the juice on her finger and licked it clean. _Fuck she has to stop putting her fingers in her mouth around me—at least when I’m sitting next to my kid. I’m minding my business, trying to enjoy my orange, and now there’s an embarrassing amount of wetness collecting between my legs._

Serena pretended not to notice how worked up June was, but secretly delighted in the effect she still had on her. She had been genuinely frightened that all they'd shared in these last few weeks would evaporate the minute they left Gilead. _But this feels kind of nice, and--normal, I guess,_ Serena thought. _It’s been so long since I’ve ever known normal. I’m going to enjoy this, because who knows how long it will last after I tell June the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about how we got here._

“Mommy, I’m really tired. May I be excused so I can go to bed now?” Hannah asked.

“Of course, sweetheart. It’s been a big day. Do you need my help finding something to wear to bed?” June asked.

“Yes, please. I found a drawer with some pajamas, but I need to find a toothbrush and toothpaste,” Hannah said yawning.

“Let’s go get you settled,” June said, as she stood up from the table. She was about to clear her plate, but Serena had already grabbed it and was cleaning up the kitchen from dinner. As Hannah walked upstairs to her room, June walked up behind Serena at the sink and pulled her close. "So, if you want to, how about I put the kiddo to bed, and then you and me can sit by this crazy cool fireplace and drink alcohol--maybe I'll get handsy--it could happen."

“That sounds amazing,” Serena said. “I do have one question. Are you planning on turning the hot lights on me tonight and grilling me to spill all my secrets on how I got us the hell out of Gilead, and how we ended up in this pretty fantastic house? If you are, I’ll make some coffee and we can stay up all night and hash it all out.”

“That can wait. I don’t have the mental capacity for it right now, and I might not for a few days. And whatever the story is, the ending is a good one. You got us out, and whatever you had to do to make that happen was all completely worth it. We have plenty of time for the story later. Tonight, I just want to relax, get a little drunk, and make out with my girlfriend—I mean, my sister-in-law—in front of the fireplace.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Serena replied, turning her head to kiss June. “Now go take care of Hannah and I’ll see you in a little while. Take your time--I might take a shower and wash the remainder of the Gilead filth off of me.”

“That sounds like a really great idea—I might do the same after Hannah’s asleep. So save some wine for me, ok?” June admonished.

“June, there is so much wine in this house—enough to last us all winter—even if we drink excessively every single day.”

“Sweet!” June said, as she squeezed Serena’s waist and headed upstairs to put Hannah to bed.

June made quick work of getting Hannah ready for bed. As Hannah climbed into bed, the questions started. “Mommy, how did your friend get us out of Gilead? One minute, I’m on my way to school with my Martha, and the next minute, a pretty lady comes and switches places with her, asks me to please not scream, and tells me that she’s going to take me to see my real mommy.”

“Then what happened, baby?” June asked.

“They took me in a car to a house, kind of hidden away. Just for a few hours. Then they drove me to the airplane, and I saw you and Serena. And that’s all I know,” Hannah finished.

“Well sweetie, that’s pretty much what happened to me. Serena said it was time to go, so we got in the car, I changed into the Martha outfit, and the next thing I know, I am boarding that airplane and my beautiful daughter is sitting there waiting for me,” June explained. “Serena had to keep everything a secret—from everyone. Even me. And we might not have all the details, yet, but the important thing is that you and I are safe now, and that we’re together. Right? All I did was ask Serena to help us get out of Gilead, and she did everything else.”

“All of it? She got me away from my house, got us an airplane, and then brought us to this beautiful house to live in?” Hannah asked incredulously. “Why would she do all that for us, Mommy? She doesn’t even know me, and—well—Gilead is pretty scary with all the guards with guns. It couldn’t have been easy,” Hannah said, trying to make sense of everything.

“Well, sweetie, Serena and I have known each other for awhile now. We lived in the same house where she was a Commander’s wife and I was her Handmaid. Where we lived—it was awful. The Commander was cruel and did terrible things to both of us. One day, the Commander did something extra-awful, and we decided we couldn’t stand living in Gilead another minute. So I asked her if she would help me escape with you--and she agreed to do it.”

“Did you have a baby for her Mommy?”

“Yes, I did. I gave birth to a little girl named Nichole. But Serena loves her like she is her own daughter. She helped me get Nichole out of Gilead when she was just tiny. I snuck her out with another Handmaid and they escaped to Canada, then I came back to Serena’s house. I had to stay until I could figure out how you and I could both escape. I was never going to leave without you,” June explained. “And now that we’re out, Serena’s going to figure out how to get Nichole back with us too, so we can all be a family together.”

Hannah clung to June, and buried her face in her chest while both of them cried together—tears of relief, tears of pain, tears of joy. When they had calmed down a little, June found a box of tissues and dried Hannah’s face, and then her own.

“I knew you would never leave me behind, Mommy,” Hannah said, sniffling. “I knew you didn’t forget me. And Serena is like a super-hero! She got us out of Gilead, and now we live in this big house with her. Is she going to stay with us for a long time?”

“I sure hope so. But how would you feel about that—if Serena lived with us and became part of our family?” June asked carefully.

“She’s really cool Mommy. And she’s nice to me. She doesn’t talk to me like I’m a baby. And she loves you Mommy. I can tell. Her eyes never leave you—she’s always looking out for you.”

“Yeah, she is, isn’t she? Serena gave up everything to get us out of Gilead, and she risked her life to do it. I think that makes her part of this family, but only if you say it’s ok.”

“It’s ok with me. Is she going to tell me what to do sometimes?” Hannah asked.

“Sure, I suppose so, but she’s not going to tell you to do anything that I wouldn’t tell you to do myself,” June explained.

“Do you think she’ll love me like she loves you and Nichole?” Hannah asked shyly.

“Oh baby, I think she already does,” June explained, delighted when Hannah smiled.

“And are you going to hold hands, and kiss and stuff all the time?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah, we probably will. And we’re probably going to sleep in the same bed.”

“If I have a bad dream, can I still come and crawl into bed with both of you?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

“Ok. I’m tired. Can I go to sleep now?” Hannah asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Sure sweetie,” June said as she tucked her in, shut the lamp off beside the bed and laid down next to her until she fell asleep. _Well that was a rough conversation. She was shooting questions at me like an ace reporter at a press conference. Trying to articulate my relationship with Serena to a little girl, when I don’t even understand it myself, is not easy. I think she understands it better than I do. But all in all, she accepted it pretty well. And she’s right about Serena--I think she’s a hero to both of us right now._


	34. Sex and frosting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally get to wash the Gilead yuck off, and well...one thing leads to another. And then there's cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double chapter, as a gift to everyone who is enjoying reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. 
> 
> Treachery  
> Your kiss was,  
> A gentle breeze;  
> Freezing flames of,  
> Her memories;  
> Her treachery...
> 
> Copyright desireddreamer January 2019

June left Hannah’s room and partially closed the door, so that she’d be able to hear if she called out during the night. She walked into her bedroom, and scoped out what might be available for decent clothes. She was rewarded when she found a pair of black leggings and a soft, slouchy top with ¾ length sleeves. She heard the shower running, and quickly shed her clothing and knocked on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?” June asked.

“Only if you’re planning on joining me,” Serena said.

“Well, with an invitation like that, how can I resist?” June said, opening the glass door and quickly stepping into the steamy shower.

“Thank goodness—you got here just in time,” Serena said, pulling June under the shower head.

“Oh?” June said, quirking an eyebrow.

Serena poured body wash into her hands and started rubbing it all over her torso, making sure to spend extra time on her tits. She watched June swallow hard, her eyes riveted to the hot little show Serena was putting on for her. “I was going to have to get myself off, but now that you’re here, I’m hoping you could maybe do a girl a favor.”

That was all June needed to hear, as she pressed her body against Serena’s, pushing her up against the shower wall. “What kind of favor are you looking for?” June said, as she sucked and nibbled her way down Serena’s soft, creamy neck and shoulders.

“The kind of favor where you fuck me up against the wall and make me come really hard,” Serena said, holding onto June’s shoulders and wrapping one leg around her to give her maximum access. June wasted no time as her hand shot down to Serena’s swollen pussy. “Fuuccckkkk,” June said, taking possession of Serena’s mouth as she plunged three fingers inside her. Serena swore and dug her fingernails into June’s back. June took her time fucking her, pushing her fingers all the way inside, pressing up against the back wall of Serena’s vagina, and then pulling out slowly, repeating the process. June could feel Serena’s nipples scrapping against her chest, their hard tips craving her attention. Not one to deny someone as deserving as the woman she was currently fucking, she dipped her head down and captured one of her nipples into her mouth, and sucked it as hard as she dared, and—hearing no objections--sucked it still harder.

“I’m going to need you to speed that favor up, baby—I need to come,” Serena said as she slid her hand down and pressed her fingers hard up against her clit, letting June’s thrusting hand bang up against hers to provide the additional friction she needed to get off. “Fuck, that’s so good—keep doing whatever you’re doing,” Serena said, as she rubbed her clit faster and harder as June kept slamming her fingers inside. Serena pressed her mouth against June’s neck to muffle her cry, her legs buckling, while electric bolts of pleasure ripped through her body, from her toes to the top of her head. June held her close--and upright--until the spasms slowed, then slipped her hand out from between Serena’s legs.

“How big do you the water tank is in this house?” Serena asked idly, as she, she swapped places and pressed June’s body against the shower wall. She pressed her lips against June, kissing her slowly, sensuously, and thoroughly, while she massaged her breasts and teased her nipples to a hard peaks.

Moving her hand between June’s legs, she ran her fingers through June’s slick folds, teasing her entrance and occasionally grazing her clit. “After everything we’ve been through today, you’re going to tease me?” June said, her eyes closed tightly while she clenched a handful of Serena’s hair.

“Threats will get you nowhere, but they do excite me,” Serena said, as her mouth traveled down to pull her nipple into her mouth, scraping the tip against her teeth just hard enough to make June a little nervous--and a lot wetter. She took a small amount of pity on June, and slid her middle finger inside her pussy and held it there for a minute, while she moved over to the other nipple to give it the same amount of attention.

“I’m going to count to three, and if you don’t get serious and start doing something that’s going to make me come in the next 5 minutes, I’m going to…”

“What June?” Serena said, standing up to her full height and grabbing the hand-held shower head. She quickly dialed it to the pulsing, vibrating pattern, and pointed it right at June’s throbbing pussy. June reached down and opened her lips, desperate to have the water hit her clit in the perfect spot. “Ahhh…oh fuck, that’s nice,” June said as she felt waves and waves of pleasure roll over her senses. Serena captured June’s lips in a deep, searing kiss, as she held the shower head in place, letting the water continue to caress June’s clit and entrance in that oh-so-perfect way that only a stream of water could. _So close—I’m so fucking close_ —her brain screamed, as she hovered over the orgasm, waiting for it to engulf her. When it did, her legs buckled and her body banged against the shower wall and Serena moved the stream off her clit and held her up while her body calmed down. Every muscle in June’s body was relaxed, and she wrapped her arms around Serena and rested her head against chest. Serena could feel June’s smile on her skin and she reached up and returned the shower head to its holder.

“Do you want me to wash your hair for you?” Serena asked, as she kissed and lightly nibbled at June’s shoulders.

“Really? You would do that?”

“Sure,” she said, pumping shampoo into her hands and beginning to work it into June’s hair, taking time to massage her scalp. June was trying not to think about how surreal this whole situation and just focus on how lovely it felt to have her hair washed. When she was finished, she guided June underneath the shower head to rinse off, then applied conditioner. “This is really nice, Serena. Thank you for doing this—you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to—I want to,” Serena replied, rinsing off the conditioner. “So, I’m not a plumber, but I think we’re at the end of the hot water tank capacity, so perhaps we should move the party somewhere else,” Serena said, stealing one more kiss from June before shutting off the water. “Do you want to go straight to bed and pick up where we left off, or do you want to go sit in front of the fire and drink wine and make out?” Serena asked, stepping out of the shower and handing June a towel.

June looked pensive for a moment, then said “I think today has been a lot, and I’m having a little trouble getting grounded. It’s all just—so surreal. Just this morning, you fucked me in my horrible little Handmaid bed—which I enjoyed tremendously, by the way. Then the guard almost caught us, and you had to go into your Mrs. Waterford act and rip me a new asshole, and I swear, I pissed myself. Then I leapt out of bed and put the hideous Handmaid get up on and went shopping with all the other Handmaids. And now, all the Handmaids are still where they were, and I’m in Nova Scotia, with a new identity—and I have Hannah back! And I’m living in a beautiful house, with you, who I just had excellent shower sex with--and no one is going to storm in and try to kill us for what we’re doing and who we’re doing it with. It’s amazing, it’s a miracle, it’s awesome, it’s scary, and I’m afraid this is all some sort of dream and I’m going to wake up and none of this will have ever happened.”

Serena took June’s face in her hands and looked into her eyes. “It’s a lot, June. Of course you feel weird. I do too. We’ve never even gone out on a date, and now we’re living together like a married lesbian couple with kids. Under new identities. And you don’t know how the fuck it all happened. It’s a lot to take in. Why don’t we go put on some comfortable clothes, and sit in front of the fire and drink wine, and we can take turns pinching each other to prove that this is all real,” Serena said, placing a soft, chaste kiss on June’s lips. When she went to move away, June pulled her back in for a longer, more sensual kiss, and when their lips parted, she whispered, “how do you always seem to know what I need?”

“I’ve been paying attention for almost two years, June.”

They both retreated to their respective rooms to dry off and get dressed. When June was finished, she checked on Hannah to make sure she was still asleep. She made her way downstairs to find the fireplace lit, Serena curled up on the couch with a book, and two glasses of wine poured and waiting for them on the coffee table. Serena lifted her head when she heard June’s footsteps on the stairs, and treated June to a genuine smile—a true rarity in their other life, but something she hoped she saw every day now. She sat beside Serena on the couch, and handed her the wine glass closest to her.

“How did you get down here faster than me?” June asked.

“I was highly motivated by wine and dessert. I found a cake in the fridge—do you want a piece?” Serena asked.

“Cake? Real cake, with real frosting and real sugar?” June said, her mouth watering.

“Come see”, Serena said, as she got off the couch and led the way into the kitchen. She pulled a small bakery box out of the refrigerator and opened it.

“Welcome home Prince family?” June said. “Are you fucking kidding me? ACME is a little over the top, don’t you think?”

“Hey, it’s cake. Carrot cake, as a matter of fact, which is my favorite. And Prince is our name now—ACME is just trying to reinforce it. Plus, it throws good cover on us in case there are spies at the grocery store, looking for women named Waterford or Osborne, so they can report back to Gilead that we’ve been spotted eating cake in Nova Scotia.”

“Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean there isn’t a sinister Gilead plot against us,” June said, getting plates and forks, while Serena rummaged around in a drawer and came up with a cake server.

“Wow…this place really does have everything. What are we going to do on Sundays if we don’t have to go to Bed, Bath and Beyond to buy things like cake servers?” June asked.

“I can think of a few things,” Serena said, smiling wickedly at June.

“Cut that cake, woman. Hey, it looks pretty small—should we just cut it in half?” June suggested.

“What about Hannah? Won’t she be upset if she finds out we had cake and didn’t save her any?” Serena asked.

“Says the woman with the sharing problem,” June said laughing. “So the thing with kids is, what they don’t know you’ve eaten, won’t upset them, and won’t get you into trouble. We just have to get rid of all the evidence, and she’ll never know. And tomorrow, we’ll go take a walk down by the water, and I’m sure we can find her some sort of treat. Hell, she’s out of Gilead—I think she’s just feeling pretty happy about that.”

“You’re probably right. But I’m going to save her a piece anyway. I just wanted to have a taste. My stomach’s not doing that well. I think it’s leftover stress,” Serena said, as she cut June a large piece and a smaller one for herself, and putting the rest away for Hannah to have tomorrow. June stuck her finger in the cream cheese frosting and licked it, moaning with pleasure.

“Do I need to be jealous of the cake?” Serena asked. “Or do I just need to feed it to you regularly so I can hear the dulcet tones of your sensual moans?”

“I think you can find a way to hear that sound as often as you like—and one that won’t put me in a diabetic coma,” June said, sticking her finger back into the frosting and offering Serena a lick. Serena licked the frosting off of June’s finger, making sure not to miss any of its delicious sweetness.

“Speaking of Hannah,” Serena said, resuming her position on the couch, “How is she? When I walked upstairs earlier, I saw the two of you having a serious conversation.”

“Kids don’t miss a darn thing, do they?” June said, shaking her head. “At least, we’ll have a break with Nichole for a bit because she’s so small, but enjoy the respite while you can—the questions will start pouring out of her mouth at about two, and it will always be the same one: Why, Mommy?’

“Well, I look forward to that”, Serena said quietly, not wanting to think about Nichole at the moment. _I’m still not sure what will have to be done to get Nichole back, but whatever it is, June will have both of her daughters with her no matter what, or how long it takes._

“Hey,” June said, tucking a strand of hair behind Serena’s ear. “Where did you go?"

“To a place that I shouldn’t go to tonight,” Serena said, resolutely. “So what did you and Hannah talk about--if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Well, she’s her mother’s daughter. She has to make sense of everything. She wanted to know how she went from being on her way to school, to being kidnapped by a Martha, to ending up in Nova Scotia, and reunited with her mom and this magical cool lady who’s like Captain Marvel. And she wanted to know why you helped us—when you didn’t even know her.”

“Well, that’s a lot a lot of questions. And how did you handle them all?” Serena asked, taking a sip of wine.

“One at a time. I explained that you were the wife and I was the Handmaid, and we lived in a terrible house together, and endured terrible things. She asked if I’d had a baby for you, so I explained—at a high level—about Nichole, and how much you loved her and sacrificed for her to get her safe and outside of Gilead. And that you are as much Nichole’s mother as I am,” June said, taking a breath and sipping her wine. “And that something really bad happened one day, and I asked you to help get us out of Gilead and you agreed.

“You told her all of that?” Serena said incredulously.

“I’m done lying. I’m declaring this household fully transparent. I’m answering any question she gives me as honestly as I can, and if she asks you something, just do the same. I’m not going to fault you for it.”

“Agreed. Did you explain the bit about Mommy’s special friend?”

“It was almost a natural progression of the conversation. She was talking about what a super hero you were rescuing us from that awful place, and now we’re living in this beautiful house with you. She wanted to know if you were going to live with us for a long time. I told her that you sacrificed everything to get us out of Gilead, and that I’d promised that you could always be a part of our family, and I asked her if she was ok with that. And—this kid—” June paused for a sip of wine. “She said yes, it would be ok with her, and asked if we were going to hold hands and kiss and stuff,” June said laughing.

“She did not!” Serena exclaimed.

“She did. And I said yes, we were, and that we were going to share a bed too. Then she asked me if she could crawl into bed with us if she had a bad dream. And if you were going to love her like you love Nichole. I told her you already did.”

Serena was silent for a minute, then her face crumpled and she burst into tears. June slid next to her and put her arm around her while she let out all of the fear, and stress, and relief, and joy that had been trapped inside her the past few weeks. Serena had been June’s rock, holding everything together—making sure the plan went flawlessly—making sure they didn’t get caught. And she was fucking exhausted. Everything she never dared hope for—well, almost everything—was in this house with her, and as soon as Nichole was with them, they could relax and just enjoy a normal, peaceful life. It hardly seemed real. She thought she was going to be in Gilead for a very, very long time—if June hadn’t asked her, and the moment hadn’t been precisely perfect, she wouldn’t have left. Serena cried for a long time, her head buried behind her knees, and June stayed right there—she didn’t try to fix it, she didn’t try to tell her it was going to be ok—she just let her be, and stayed with her so she wouldn’t feel alone.

Suddenly, Serena jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom. June could hear her retching from the other side of the door. Serena’s stomach heaved, over and over again, until there was nothing left to throw up. When she was done, she flushed the toilet, rinsed her mouth out, and sat on the floor, not certain she was finished. June came in and got her a cool washcloth and gently wiped her face and hands with it. Serena was spent, and wasn’t quite sure how she was going to get up off the floor. June just took a spot on the floor next to her and held her hand for a few minutes, until she heard her ask if she could help her up.

“Sure thing,” June said, standing up, and taking both of her hands to help her up. “How about we call it a night and go up to bed? I believe we were going to give your bed a spin tonight.”

“Please, don’t say spin, June,” Serena said, still looking like she might be sick again at the slightest provocation.

“So I’m going into that well-stocked kitchen and I’m going to make you some ginger tea. That will settle your stomach and calm you down. Actually, I’ll make some for me too because lord knows, I can use some settling and calming,” June said, trying to lighten the mood.

“That might be good. I’m going to bed now. I really feel like shit,” Serena said as she made her way up the staircase.

_I thought maybe she just cried so hard she threw up—I’ve done that more than once in my life. Jesus, I feel bad—I had no idea she wasn’t feeling well. She sure can hide it. Maybe it’s that spy training of hers._


	35. Fever

June went into the kitchen to fix the tea. While the water was heating, she cleaned up the living room a bit, put the rest of the wine back in the refrigerator, and turned off the gas fireplace. She fixed two mugs of tea, and carried them upstairs. As she approached Hannah’s room, she stopped and poked her head in, making sure that she was still asleep.

June walked down the hall to Serena’s room, placed one of the mugs of tea on Serena’s bedside table, and then walked to the other side of the bed to put hers down. She walked into her room and found a pair of boxer type shorts and a t-shirt, which she changed into, then brushed her teeth and got into bed next to Serena. She’d grabbed a book from the office that looked interesting, and turned the lamp on beside her that offered just enough light to read by, but not enough to disturb the already sleeping Serena.

She looked over at Serena, and noticed that her forehead and the hair around her face was drenched in sweat. With the back of her hand, she felt her forehead and found that she was burning up with fever. She got out of bed, went into the bathroom for a cool cloth, and located a thermometer in the medicine chest. Luckily, it was one of those fancy forehead models, so she wouldn’t even have to wake her to check her temperature. She aimed the sensor to within ½ an inch of her forehead, and the digital readout showed 102.4 degrees F. _How the fuck did she get sick? That woman hasn’t had anything worse than a headache since I’ve been living with her, so what are the odds that she gets sick the day we escape? It couldn’t be anything she ate or drank—we all had the same things, unless maybe she had something to drink at the ACME office with Jean-Guy._ June let her mind run away from her and imagined that Jean-Guy at ACME was a double agent and had poisoned Serena on behalf of Gilead to keep her for spilling any more state secrets. _It’s probably just a 24-hour thing, or the flu, or something manageable. It doesn’t have to be ricin poisoning._

June laid the cool cloth on Serena’s head, and went into the bathroom and retrieved some acetaminophen to hopefully get her fever down. She sat on Serena’s side of the bed and stroked her face with the cool cloth. “What are you doing to my face, and why is it so hot in here?” Serena said quietly.

“You have a fever, and you're burning up. Have you been feeling ill lately, or did this just all come on at once?”

“I’m not sure,” Serena said, sitting up and taking the acetaminophen that June handed her, washed it down with the ginger tea, which by now had cooled off considerably. “I mean, my stomach has been a wreck since we decided to get out of Gilead, but I figured it was stress,” she said as she finished the rest of her tea. “Can you get me a glass of really cold water, June? And maybe a small bag of ice or something? I’m roasting and I need to cool off fast so I can just get myself back to sleep.”

“Sure, but can you tell me if you ate or drank anything at Jean-Guy’s office?” June asked. “It’s the only place you might have had something that me and or Hannah didn’t.”

Serena thought for a moment. “I didn’t eat or drink anything while I was there, so I don’t think that could be it. And plus, I’ve known Jean-Guy since he was wearing diapers. He’s practically my brother.”

“So he’s not a possible double-agent, bent on bringing you down before you spill all of the Gilead secrets?” June asked.

“I see you’re a fan of the spy thriller genre, eh,” Serena smiled weakly. “It’s probably the flu. I’ve been under quite a bit of stress lately, and now that I can let my guard down, my body has decided it’s ok to crash. I probably just need rest. Besides, how high of a temperature are we talking?” Serena asked.

“Let me take it again,” June said, pointing the thermometer’s sensor at Serena’s forehead. It's 102.2, so it's down .2 degrees. Still not awesome."

“Listen June, I know you’re freaked out, but I’m going to be fine. If you could scrounge up the ice, and some water, and maybe there’s a bottle of ginger ale rolling around in the fridge, that would be awesome. Leave the acetaminophen on the bedside table, and when I wake up during the night, I’ll take some more. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“So you are pretty sure this isn’t some sort of assassination plot hatched by Gilead counter intelligence agents?”

“I think you’re letting your imagination get the best of you. I’m going to be fine. Please stop worrying.”

“Let me go get your stuff for you. And thanks for waking up for me and taking some pills—I was scared for a minute, but you’re talking and making sense, and your sense of humor is sort of intact, so yay for that.”

“Don’t worry—you can’t get rid of me that easy. In fact, you’re much more likely to try to poison me that any of my spy friends. None of them want me dead in that oh so special way that you do,” Serena said, only half-kidding.

“My days of wishing you dead have come to a close now. If I ever wish you dead again, it will be for something you did to me from this day forward—not from anything in the way back machine,” June said.

“Thank god, for that—I feel 100 times better already! Look, it’s a miracle! I’m healing!”

“Hahahaha—Serena’s got jokes as usual,” June grumbled as she went downstairs to hunt for water and ice, and quite possibly, a bottle of ginger ale.

June returned to the bedroom with everything that was on Serena’s list, and placed it on the table beside her. “Here—drink this. You’re dehydrated from tossing up the contents of your stomach,” June said as she handed Serena glass of water, which she promptly placed against her forehead.

“OMG it’s so hot in here—I think I made a poor selection of sleeping attire,” she said, as she drank half the contents of the water glass, put it down on the table and pulled off the sweatshirt she’d been sleeping in and handed it to June.

“Jesus, Serena, this is soaked,” June said. “Let me get you something lighter to sleep in.” While June rummaged around in the drawers for something appropriate, Serena took the newly freshened cool cloth June had brought and wiped off her face, neck, arms, chest and torso. “Now that feels better,” Serena said smiling, as the cool water was soothed the raging heat coming from her skin.”

“What an excellent way to catch pneumonia! Did they teach you that in spy school?” June scolded as she grabbed a towel off the back of the bathroom door and promptly dried Serena off before she caught a chill. Then she pulled a light t-shirt over her head and replaced the sweatpants Serena had been sleeping in with a pair of cotton shorts. She rummaged in the bedside drawer and found a hair tie, which she used to get Serena’s hair up and off her neck.

“Did you find the ice, June?” Serena asked, her voice quiet. The fever was starting to climb back up and even she knew they needed to keep that from happening. “Yes, it’s right here. How about we put it on the back of your neck?” June suggested. “Sounds like a plan,” Serena said as she laid back down on the pillow and let June put the ice back on the back of her neck.

“So I’m going to try to sleep now, ok? I really do feel pretty awful, and I just want to pass out.”

“All right--I’ll be here. I’m going to read for awhile and make sure you don’t die,” June said, leaning over to kiss Serena’s cheek.

“Is that the best you’ve got Lizzie?”

“It is while we don’t know if what you have is contagious, Suzie. Now close your eyes, and get some sleep. Good night Serena.”

“Good night, Offred,” Serena said, dissolving in giggles, while June looked on in horror.

“You are just lucky you’re half dead, or I might smack you for that.”

“Quit trying to turn me on, June,” Serena said, as she rolled over on her side away from June and made a serious attempt at falling asleep.

 _Offred my ass…she’s so lucky I can’t do anything to her right now,_ June thought as she picked up her book and began to read. It was such a treat to read—something she had been deprived of for so long. Soon she was transported to a land of witches and warlocks and dragons and other magical creatures, and before she knew it, several hours had passed. Her eyes were getting heavy, so she put the book down and turned off her lamp. Her body automatically gravitated towards Serena’s but she didn’t think that adding her body heat to the mix was a good way to bring her fever down. She snuck the thermometer’s sensor in front of Serena’s forehead and it stayed pretty constant a 101.7. Knowing that time and rest were probably the best things for Serena, she rolled over onto her other side, and resolved to stop worrying and to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. Serena and June are finally out of Gilead, but what lies in store for them? I was going to conclude the story with their escape, but I decided to continue it and just make it really fucking long. Buckle in--the ride's not over yet.


	36. Unexpected trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: For the time being, while everyone refers to them by their new identities as Suzanne, Elizabeth and Holly, when they are with each other, they refer to themselves as Serena, June and Hannah. But, if they are talking to anyone else, they refer to themselves and each other by their new identity names. It makes sense to me, and I hope you concur.

The next morning, Hannah woke up first and walked into their bedroom, and crawled into bed next to her mom. June put her arm around her to snuggle her little body as close to hers as possible, enjoying the closeness that they’d both been denied for years.

As June started to wake up a bit more, she looked over her shoulder to check on Serena, and saw that her side of the bed was empty. _Hmmm…I’m not liking this one bit,_ June thought. “Hey honey, how about you go watch some cartoons while I brush my teeth and then I’ll come down and make breakfast for you.” Hannah agreed and headed downstairs. June had just gotten out of bed when she heard Hannah scream, “Mommy! Come quick!”

June was up in a flash and ran downstairs to find Serena lying on the floor, still wearing the same clothes June had put her in last night. June knelt down beside her, checked her pulse and made sure she was still breathing. She still had a fever, but no more so than last night. “Serena, honey, wake up. It’s me. June. You gotta wake up, now—come on—please.” Getting no response, June got up and ran to the kitchen to find one of the programmed cell phone Georges had left for them. She dialed his number and he picked up on the first ring.

“Georges, Serena is sick. She had a high fever last night, and I just found her passed out on the living room floor and I can’t wake her up. Can you get help please?”

“I will send an ambulance and will be right over. Stay with her.” June heard the line disconnect and she went back to kneel beside Serena. “Hannah, sweetie, go sit on the couch, ok? Help is on the way,” June said, not believing it herself. Hannah did as she was told and sat quietly on the couch. June knew she was probably terrified— _and so am I._

It seemed as though no time at all had passed when June heard a key in the lock and the front door opened. George came in and went over to where Serena was laying, and knelt down and held her hand, speaking to her in soothing tones. Within a minute of his arrival, paramedics arrived with a stretcher, and Georges and June stood back, while they put the back board next to her and gently lifted her onto it, and onto the stretcher. They strapped her onto the gurney, and wheeled Serena out of the house and loaded her into the ambulance.

“Where are they taking her? I need to go be with her—will you take me there?” June asked.

“Of course, Elizabeth. You two go get dressed and we’ll leave right away. Try not to worry. She’s in very good hands,” Georges said.

June and Hannah went upstairs and got dressed quickly and came back downstairs to meet Georges.

“What hospital is she going to?” June asked.

“It’s a private hospital. It’s one for members of the diplomatic corps,” Georges said smoothly.

 _Great—she’s in the spook hospital—I just hope the good guys have her and she’s safe—and I’m not even sure who the good guys are right now. “_ I don’t care where she is as long as there’s a doctor there that knows what he or she is doing,” June said as she ushered everyone out of the house and into the same car they had ridden in yesterday with Georges.

The car ride was silent. June noticed they were driving to the edge of the city, to a more industrial section of town. Georges turned into what looked like an office park, and drove up to a perfectly normally looking building with nothing to distinguish it, except for the ACME logo in front. As they got out of the car, June took Hannah’s hand and followed Georges. A guard opened the door for them immediately, and they walked into a high-tech, state-of-the-art medical facility. They were greeted by Jean-Guy, Serena’s friend that they’d met yesterday.

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances,” Jean-Guy said, shaking her hand.

“Where’s Serena—is she ok? Do they know what’s wrong with her yet?” June asked.

“Not yet—she’s still non-responsive. The doctors need to speak with you right away. They need to know what led up to this, and whatever information you have to share. It will help them diagnose her more quickly. They’re examining her now and running blood tests and tox screens. Let’s get upstairs to the treatment room so you can talk with the doctor,” Jean Guy said.

“Can my daughter come with us?” June asked.

“Of course! Come on, we’ll take the elevator to the 8th floor. ”

When the disembarked from the elevator, they found the door to the ward locked, and they had to call security for access to the floor. A guard opened the door for them, looked at Jean Guy and Georges’ identification badges, and allowed everyone in. June tried not to panic, and kept Hannah close to her.

They walked down the hall and were met by several doctors, all looking very serious.

“Ms. Prince, what can you tell us about Suzanne’s illness?” a doctor by the name of Lizette Pariseau asked.

“Last night she vomited about an hour and a half after dinner, said she didn’t feel well and went up to bed. She said her stomach had been messed up for a couple of weeks, and she thought it was stress. When I went to check on her 15 minutes later, she was sweating and had a fever of 102.4. She was coherent, took ibuprophen, and tried to get back to sleep. My daughter found her this morning, unconscious and lying on the living room floor. We called Georges and the ambulance came to get her.

“We know you all just left Gilead, and arrived here yesterday. Did she eat anything last night that came from outside of your home?”

“No. We only ate the food that was in the house. I cooked a stir fry with vegetables. After dinner, we had a glass of wine, and she had a couple of bites of cake. She threw up pretty soon after the cake,” June explained.

“So nothing from outside of the house?” one of the other doctors asked.

“No—Jean-Guy, did she drink or eat anything while she was in your office?” June asked.

“No. I offered her a beverage and she didn’t want anything,” he replied.

“We shared a bottle of champagne that was in the car Georges was driving, but it was sealed—and I had some and I’m not sick. In fact, we’ve all eaten and drank the same things—there’s nothing that she had that we didn’t.

The doctors looked at each other concerned. A lab technician hurried up the hall to where the group was gathered and handed Lizette what June surmised were test results.

“The toxicology screen confirms it—it’s anthrax—Jeannine, we need 400mg of Cipro every 12 hours, starting right now. Ms. Prince, does Suzanne smoke?”

“Yes,” June replied.

“Ok, Jeanine, increase her oxygen, and the moment her levels start to drop, call a code. We’ll need to intubate her. We don’t know if she ingested or inhaled the anthrax yet, so we can’t take any chances. If she’s a smoker, her lungs are already compromised.”

June’s face registered alarm, and Dr. Pariseau said, “Ms. Prince, I will give you a full update on Suzanne’s diagnosis and treatment as soon as we get her stabilized. Please make yourself comfortable in the family waiting area—it’s right across the hall from Suzanne’s room, so you can keep an eye on her. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll let you sit with her for a few minutes. I’m sure you must be frightened,” the doctor said, trying to soothe June’s frayed nerves.

“We’ll need to test you and your daughter as well, so I’ll send a lab technician into the waiting room to take blood samples. We don’t know how she got exposed to the toxin, or if either of you have been exposed--but if you have, the quicker we start antibiotics, the better the prognosis.”

“Doctor, is she going to die?” June asked quietly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Lizette answered, possibly more confidently than she felt.


	37. Waiting is the hardest part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the doctors rush to figure out what's wrong with Serena, all everyone can do is wait.

June, Hannah, Georges and Jean-Guy were in the family waiting room, waiting anxiously for some sort of update on Serena. A lab technician came in to take June and Hannah’s blood samples, promising results within the hour. Soon after, the doctor came in to give them all an update.

“We assume the exposure happened in Gilead. Depending on the type of exposure, symptoms of anthrax poisoning can appear as soon as 24 hours, or as long as 60 days after the initial exposure. We performed an endoscopy, and found lesions in Suzanne’s esophagus and stomach, so we believe she ingested it, and we’re treating her for gastrointestinal anthrax poisoning. We don’t know yet when she might have ingested it, but we believe it’s been within the past two weeks. She may have been given multiple doses, hidden in something simple that she ate or drank every day.”

“What are her chances, doctor?” June asked.

“Well, it’s hard to say. We think we may have caught it in time, but the levels of poison in her system are quite high. Could you tell me more about Suzanne’s day to day life in Gilead? What sorts of foods did she eat and who prepared it? What were her activities, and what was the physical environment like? And did anyone want to harm her?” the doctor asked. “Any clues you can will help us.”

June gave the doctor as much information about Serena’s day to day life as she possibly could, including what her daily food and beverage routine was, and who prepared them for her. June’s mind immediately went to Rita—she was the one who prepared almost everything for Serena. And Rita did hate her. But she’d also been pretty sympathetic to her a lot of the time. _Serena has that effect on the servants._ So the most likely candidate for wanting her dead was Fred Waterford. It would have been simple enough to slip something into her tea, or even an alcoholic beverage—she didn’t imagine it would take much effort on his part.

“We are running more tests to see what strain of anthrax she’s been exposed to. Knowing the strain will help us find the antidote,” Lizette said.

June looked confused, and the doctor looked to Jean-Guy for help. “Elizabeth, if the anthrax is military grade, then we know someone in Gilead—someone with a great deal of power—wanted her dead. It’s a considered a biological weapon, and not easy to obtain. It’s possible that Suzanne’s cover was blown as she was putting the wheels in motion to get you all out of Gilead. If anyone discovered what she was planning, it would have made her a target. And it also means that we have to keep a very close watch on the three of you. They may have somehow tracked you here.”

“Well, I must get back to Suzanne. Thank you, Ms. Prince, for all the information. I will let you know when you can sit with her for a few minutes,” the doctor said, taking her leave.

The morning dragged on. Georges had very thoughtfully supplied coffee, muffins, and hot chocolate, and was doing a great job occupying Hannah. June was too nauseous to think about food, but she just couldn’t resist the coffee, even though she already had plenty of acid churning in her stomach. It was such a treat, and it had always been one of her main sources of comfort before Gilead. 

While June was still waiting to see Serena, the results of their tests came in. Hannah showed no trace of anthrax, which was a relief to June. She, on the other hand, had been exposed, but the levels of anthrax in her blood stream where nowhere near Serena’s. The findings seemed to confirm that the exposure happened in the Waterford house, and they’d both ingested the same tainted substance. The doctor prescribed oral Cipro for June, which she would be on for 10 days. “I don’t expect you to have any symptoms from your exposure—it’s simply precautionary,” Lizette explained.

“Thank you doctor. Would it be all right if I sat with Serena for a few minutes?”

“She’s still unconscious, but we think that she should be waking up soon, if the oxygen and antibiotics are doing their job. Don’t stay more than 10 minutes. I’ll let you go back in a bit later. She needs her rest,” Lizette said.

“Thank you so much for taking such good care of her.”

“Suzanne and I are old friends. We lived next door to each other, and went to grade school and high school together. We were thick as thieves. I love her like a sister, and I have not seen her since she left for her assignment. I just got her back, and I’m not going to lose her now,” she said, then escorted June to Serena’s room. Hannah stayed behind with Georges, who was sitting on the floor with her building a castle with Legos. June was liking Georges more and more with every passing moment.

She walked up to the side of the bed, and saw a very pale, weak-looking Serena, hooked up to an IV, oxygen, and monitors for her respiration and heart. June looked at her in shock, hardly believing that all of this was really happening. _This is so unfair. We just escaped hell. Can’t the universe give us one fucking break? Please?_ She took Serena’s hand and stroked it, and placed a kiss on her forehead. She felt a little cooler, which was a great relief to June. She stood beside her bed, talking quietly to her.

“Listen Serena. I need you to fight. You have to fight harder than you ever have before. You need to fight for your life. Fight for Nicole. Fight for Hannah. And for Christ’s sake, fight for me. When you get out of this and get the all clear, I’m going to book the best suite, in the nicest hotel, for a solid week, and I’m not letting you out of the room. Hell, I might not even let you wear clothing. We are going to wring every possible bit of pleasure out of each other’s bodies until we finally achieve some sort of satisfaction. Because I always want you. God help me, but it’s true. And I know we have real emotional baggage to deal with, but if you die, I’ll have to deal with all the shit without you, and damn it, I need you. I will be here, waiting for you to wake up and give me a hard time, like you usually do. And I’ll be the best nurse you’ve ever had. I give a really good sponge bath--you’re going to love it.”

Knowing that her time was running out, June leaned down to kiss Serena’s, her lips lingering, while whispering a quiet prayer to whatever god was listening, to please not let her die. Just as she was about to pull away from the kiss, she felt Serena’s lips open just a bit, and her tongue softly licked her lips. Tears sprang to June’s eyes, and they started to fall on Serena’s face. “Am I dying? Because you’re being awfully nice to me.”

June giggled through her tears, and kissed her again. “Pretty fucking close to dying as a matter of fact. Thank god you’re awake. Praise fucking be! How do you feel?”

“Kind of like I’m on fire, and not in a good way But that was still a nice kiss.”

"I’m going to go get your doctor—she’ll be very glad you’re awake—I sure am,” June said, kissing Serena again before leaving the room to ask the nurse page her. She was there in a flash.

“She’s awake. She’s awake and she’s making jokes,” June said, unable to stop her tears from falling.

“Merci Dieu! Thank you, Ms. Prince. Give me a few minutes to examine her and I will update you as soon as I’m done. You must have said something to bring her back to us. I don’t know what your secret is, but I am personally, very grateful,” Lizette said, as she took out her stethoscope and listened to Serena’s heart.

June leaned against the wall outside of Serena’s room and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to choke back the sobs that were in her throat. There would be time to cry later. Right now, Serena was awake, her fever was down, and she was well enough to kiss her back and make a wise-ass comment. June felt like 10 tons of weight had been removed from her chest. She went into the waiting room to update Georges and Jean-Guy, and they immediately jumped up from their chairs and hugged each other tightly. She was certain she saw tears in both of their eyes. June sat on the floor and wrapped her arm around Hannah and told her the good news. Hannah buried her face in June’s chest, and said, “I’ve been praying for her Mommy. I’ve been praying that she gets better so we can find Nichole and be a family together.”

Their celebration was interrupted by the hospital’s intercom system: “Code Blue, room 836. Code Blue, 836.” “That’s Serena’s room! What’s happening?” June said, her voice panicked. Hannah clung to June, and Jean-Guy and Georges looked very nervous. “Do you know what’ happening, Georges?” she asked.

He shook his head no, and told her not to worry—she was in the best hands possible. June’s head was spinning, and she felt like she was going to faint. She sat down, and tried to breathe evenly for a few minutes, concentrating only on the sound of her breath. She was about to have a panic attack, and this was not the time. There were doctors running into Serena’s room with a crash cart, and they were wheeling a ventilator into the room. _I can’t just stand here and watch them—I can’t. I have no control over this situation—there is absolutely nothing within my power to do right now. Except maybe…._

“Georges, is there a chapel in this hospital somewhere?” June asked.

“Yes there is—it’s on the 2nd floor. Would you like me to take you there?”

“Yes please. Hannah, come on. I’m going to go sit in the chapel for awhile and pray for Serena, and Georges is going to take you to the cafeteria. Ok?”

“Do you need me to stay with you Mommy?” Hannah asked, looking up at June with eyes more grown up than they should be.

“You’re a sweetheart—but honestly, I need to have a serious talk with God, and I’d rather be alone.” They set off for the elevator, leaving Jean-Guy instructions to let them know if anything changed.

The chapel had a small altar, and a bank of candles, with kneelers in front. There were also four rows of chairs. Fresh flowers adorned the altar, and there was the familiar scent of incense burning. It was silent inside, and it felt very peaceful. June walked to the front, and knelt down in front of the candles. It had been a very fucking long time since she’d prayed. Gilead all but killed religion and God for her. But she was without options, and somehow this all made sense.

_God, I’m told you can hear me, so I’m going to go with that, because I need you to hear me. Serena—I mean Suzanne—I mean—you know who I mean. The blond woman in Room 836 with anthrax poisoning. I need you to save her. You know what she just did—she just risked her life to save me and my daughter—and she saved our other daughter too, at a great cost and risk to herself. She isn’t a perfect person, but evidence is pointing to the fact that there might be a good person under there somewhere. I know she can be awful, and she’s done some nasty things in her life—to me even. But if I can overlook all of that and focus on who she is today—not the woman she was back in Gilead—then surely you can give her a second chance. I don’t have anything to bargain with, and I don’t think that’s how it works anyway. You’re going to do whatever you’re going to do and me having this conversation with probably isn’t going to change anything. But please—God—she can’t die. I promise, I’ll take good care of her until she’s better. And—maybe—maybe we’ll all go to church together or something? I’m not sure which church I could tolerate after what I’ve been through, but I’ll try my best. I just—I can’t lose her. I just can’t. Nichole can’t lose her. Hannah can’t lose her. We all need her. She’s the only one that gets me, and I’m probably the only that gets her. I’m asking you to please save her—for me. She’s important to me, God. We just escaped hell. Please don’t let her die._

June spent the next 10 minutes begging, arguing, crying and making deals with God. When she ran out of steam, she stood up and lit a candle, and took a seat in one of the chairs. She repeated the same prayers, over and over, hoping that God—the Universe—someone in charge—would hear _._ After about 30 minutes or so passed, and Georges and Hannah came in. Georges went to kneel at the altar, while Hannah sat with her mom. Georges prayed for a long time, and June could see he was struggling with his emotions. _Who is he to her? Where does he know her from? Everyone I meet here loves Serena and would do anything for her._ _Or is it Suzanne that they know and love?_ The pieces of Serena’s mysterious past were piling up and she needed a translator. _I sure hope she tells me the story when she’s better, because I bet it’s incredible._

When Georges was finished, he lit a candle, made the sign of the cross, and walked over to June and Hannah. “Do you need more time, Elizabeth, or should we check on Suzanne?”

“I’m all set her—let’s go see how our girl is doing.”


	38. That Rat Bastard!

When they returned to the waiting room, Jean-Guy was not there. “I’ll go find the doctor and find out what’s going on,” Georges offered.

Shortly thereafter, the doctor came in to give them an update.

“The good news is, she regained consciousness, and was coherent with you. Shortly after you left the room, her oxygen levels dropped, and we had to intubate her and put her on a ventilator. We’re trying to get more oxygen to her brain, so that she doesn’t suffer any permanent damage.”

“How long will she be on the ventilator, and is she in any pain?” June asked.

“The tube is not comfortable, but we don’t want to over-sedate her, because the more she’s sedated, the harder it will be to wean her off the machine. She’s sleeping now, which is very good for her. I want to keep her on the ventilator for another 5 or 6 hours—then we’ll wean her off and keep a close eye on her oxygen levels. By then, it will be time for another dose of IV Cipro. The next 10-12 hours are critical,” the doctor said. “If you’d like, I can let you sit with her for another 10 minutes. But please let her sleep—I can’t stress how important rest is to her now.”

“Thank you doctor,” June said. “Georges, do you mind staying with Hannah while I go sit with Serena—I mean Suzanne?”

“It would be my pleasure. But before you go, may I have a private word with you?”

“Sure”, June said, motioning for him to join her in the hallway. “What is it?”

“Jean-Guy has been tracing the strain of anthrax that Suzanne was poisoned with—there is so little of it available in the world, and it’s expensive to make, so it’s wasn’t that hard to track down. Our suspicions were right. A quantity of anthrax was obtained on the black market by Commander Fred Waterford. He purchased it approximately 3 weeks ago. We believe that’s the source of the poison, and the approximate length of time she’s been exposed to it.”

“That rat bastard. Of course he picked poison—it’s a coward’s first choice as a murder weapon,” June said.

“But you are not surprised, Elizabeth—are you? Did she have any other enemies there?” Georges asked.

“Other than me, no, and clearly, we’ve moved beyond that stage to where we are now,” June said. “Will knowing the strain that she was poisoned with help the doctors know how to treat this?”

“Every bit of information we have helps. And please know this, Elizabeth. This will not go unpunished. Commander Fred Waterford now has a big target on his back,” Georges said.

“Actually, when Gilead finds out that his wife and his handmaiden ran off into the sunset with the handmaiden’s daughter, he will have to do some fast talking to keep from being hung on the wall,” June explained.

“The wall?” Georges asked.

“Too gruesome to explain. Let’s just say that Gilead’s methods of law enforcement and punishment rival the Middle Ages in terms of barbarism. They will think Fred is either complicit, and helped us escape, or that he’s an idiot, and didn’t see what his wife and handmaiden were up to in his own house. And if they find out Serena was a spy, or MI6 agent, or whatever kind of spook she is—all hell will break loose.”

“Well, they’d better be quick about punishing him, because if they aren’t, they won’t get the chance,” George said vehemently.

“Thank you for letting me know all this. I appreciate it. Do I have anything to worry about from a personal safety aspect?” June asked.

“Absolutely not. You have security assigned to you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You might not see us around you, but trust me—we’re there protecting you. We know how valuable you both are to Gilead, and how much they want you back. That will not happen.”

June poked her head in to tell Hannah that she was going to sit with Serena for a few minutes. She saw Hannah asleep in one of the chairs, and her heart ached. _She shouldn’t be here—this is no place for her. I’m going to need to get her home somehow._ As if reading her mind, Georges came into the waiting room to watch Hannah and said, “We’ve arranged for accommodations in the hospital for you and your daughter so you won’t have to go home,” Georges explained. “It’s like a small efficiency apartment, and families of patients use it for exactly this sort of situation. It’s just one floor up from this one. You’ll be comfortable there and if you need to get back quickly, you can be here in just a few minutes.”

“Thank you Georges. As usual, you know what I need before I ask for it,” June said.

“Go sit with Suzanne. When you’re done with your visit, I’ll show you where you will be staying and arrange for dinner. You must be hungry.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in soon,” June said and she walked across the hallway to Serena’s room. There was a guard stationed at the door, which was new. _We’re in a locked floor, in a secret hospital, and they’re still guarding her like she’s the Hope Diamond. I’m really fucking scared now._ June gave him her name and, after checking his list, he let her in.

“Is it all right if I sit with her for a few minutes?” June asked the nurse who was checking Serena’s vital signs.

“Certainly--the doctor told me to expect you. My name’s Catherine and I’m on duty for the next 12 hours. We’ve got orders not to leave Miss Prince unattended for any reason, so I’ll be just on the other side of the room if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” June said, as she walked over to the bedside and slipped her hand underneath Serena’s and lightly held it. It was hard to see her so vulnerable, unable to breathe on her own and hooked up to tubes, monitors and IVs. June put aside her feelings of fear and helplessness and just stayed with her, gently stroking her hand and telling her everything was going to be all right. When her 10 minutes was up, June leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead, and told her she’d be back to check on her later.

Before returning to the family room to collect Hannah, June tracked down Serena’s primary doctor for an update.

“The ventilator is helping,” Lizette said, “and now that we know the strain of anthrax, we have been able to locate a small supply of antibodies taken from an anthrax survivor, identical to the strain she was infected with. It’s being flown in now and will be here within 2 hours. We’ll be able to inject her with the antibodies and hopefully, her body will start replicating them. Then she’ll have both the antibiotics and the antibodies working in her favor—her chances will be much improved.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“I have every reason to believe that this will make a big difference. Knowing the strain that we’re fighting makes the treatment more precise. This really is her best chance,” Lizette said. “Now go get some rest, and I’m sure I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll be here?” June asked.

“Absolutely. I’m not walking out of here until she does.”

Georges and Hannah met June in the hallway, and they took the elevator up one floor to the hospital’s family suite. George showed them a menu and the number to call to order dinner. He also made sure June still had her pre-programmed cell phone with her, and pointed out the phone charger next to the bed. He then took his leave, promising to call if anything changed. “And feel free to call me at anytime for an update. I will be here.”

June thanked him and closed the door behind him. It was going to be a long night.


	39. Missed calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June and Hannah try to get some rest while waiting to see if the new treatment will work on Serena.

June’s stomach was a wreck, but she was hungry, and she knew Hannah needed to eat. She saw macaroni and cheese on the menu, and ordered the same for both of them. It had always been one of her go-to comfort foods, and she knew it was one of Hannah’s favorites. Dinner arrived in 20 minutes, along with fresh rolls and a salad that they could share. _I have to at least make an attempt at being a decent mother and provide my child with vegetables. It’s my second day and I’m trying not to suck too hard at my re-entry into motherhood, but this whole anthrax thing is really beyond my powers of comprehension._

June turned on the TV so they would have some distraction from everything going on. They ate dinner while watching a Disney movie—it was an old one, but a classic, and it calmed both of them down considerably. June’s mind still wandered back to Serena, and the literal life and death struggle she was going through. _There’s nothing I can do—nothing—except be here for her. I feel so fucking powerless._

After dinner, June and Hannah sat up in the queen-sized bed and snuggled while they watched the rest of the movie. June closed her eyes and just enjoyed for a moment how wonderful it felt to have her daughter back in her arms. _And Serena gave me that. All of the crazy shit I did to try to escape Gilead, and all the times she withheld my daughter from me—she came through in the end. Although she really was a fucking cunt to me whenever I mentioned Hannah. We might need to have a family therapy session around that topic._

“Are you tired, sweetie?” June asked.

“Kind of. But I’m scared about Serena. I’m scared if I go to sleep, I might wake up and she might not be here anymore.”

“You’re afraid she’s going to die. Yeah, me too. I don’t think anyone knows for sure what’s going to happen. But I can tell you this. I’ve never met a more stubborn woman in in my life, and she will never, ever give up without a fight. And all of those people taking care of her? They’re her friends from before Gilead, and they’re doing everything they can to help her get better.”

“But she seems to be getting worse. Now she’s hooked up to machines, and she hasn’t woken up again. That doesn’t seem like a good thing.”

“They are being super careful with her. Serena smokes cigarettes, which means her lungs are not as strong as they should be. So she needs the oxygen now to keep her brain and her heart strong. They’re going to try to take her off of the breathing machine in a couple of hours,” June explained. “And, they are flying in very special medicine—just for her. They think that will make all the difference.”

“Are we going to go back downstairs and sit in the waiting room some more?” Hannah asked.

“No honey. Besides, you must be sick of waiting in there with me. And you need to sleep.”

“I could sleep in a chair next to you. I wouldn’t mind. I’m worried about her too.”

“How about this? Why don’t we both try to take a nap for little awhile?” June suggested. “Georges is going to call us if anything changes, and if he does, I’ll wake you up and we’ll just go back to the hospital room as quick as we can. We can even stay in our clothes while we nap—especially since we don’t have anything else to wear at the moment.”

“Ok, Mommy. We should pray for Serena before we go to sleep,” Hannah said, climbing out of the bed and getting on her knees, steepling her small hands in front of her face and bowing her head. “Dear God. Please make Serena better so she can find my sister and come live with us in her big house by the ocean. It won’t be any fun without her, and my mommy will be really sad if she dies. Please take care of her. And take care of my mommy. She’s scared. Amen. Your turn, Mommy,” Hannah said.

“Dear God…”

“Wait—you have to kneel down. It works better,” Hannah explained.

“Of course—what was I thinking,” June said as she got out of bed and knelt on the floor next to Hannah. “Dear God. Please heal Serena and make her healthy again. She needs to stay alive—she has a lot to live for, and we really need her. Like Hannah said, it won’t be any fun living in that big house without her. Amen.”

June tucked Hannah in, then went into the other room to call Georges to get an update on Serena.

“How is she?” June asked.

“No change, but the helicopter with the antibodies just landed on the roof of the hospital—it will just be another few minutes before they can be injected into her bloodstream. “

“Did they start the second dose of Cipro yet?”

“Yes—about 30 minutes ago. Lizette is being a pit bull, hovering over her like a mama bear with her cub,” Georges said, chuckling.

“You all know her so well—and you care so much about her,” June said. “I know this is hard for you too. And I can’t thank you enough for how kind you’re being to me and my daughter. This is an awful situation, and you’re doing everything you can to make us comfortable.”

“We all love Suzanne. She is our family—me, Jean-Guy, Lizette, and a half a dozen other people you’ll meet soon. And you are our family now too, Elizabeth. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you. Nothing,” Georges said vehemently.

“Speaking of that, has operation ‘take out Fred Waterford’ launched yet?” June asked, knowing he probably wouldn’t tell her anything, but taking a shot anyway.

“I will tell you, because Suzanne trusts you, and because you are in this almost as deeply as she is. We have a tracker on him 24/7, and we have half a dozen operatives who have been instructed to take him out by any means necessary. He won’t last through the week.”

“Does Gilead know that we’re gone yet?” June asked.

“I don’t think you should worry about that. You’re safe. I promise.”

“I believe you, and thank you for telling me that. It actually makes me feel a little better, knowing his days are numbered,” June said. “Hannah and I are going to try to get a few hours of rest, but please call me if there is any change at all. We want to be there for her.”

“All right, and if I do call, the guard stationed at your room will take you to Serena’s floor. Get some rest and I’ll call you with any news.”

“Thank you,” June said as she disconnected the call. She plugged the phone into the charger, and laid down next to Hannah. She was pretty sure sleep was a pipe dream, but she had to try.

Exhaustion won and June woke up and was shocked to find that it was 4:00 am. _How did we sleep this long? And why has no one called me with any news?_ June quietly got out bed and grabbed her cell phone and saw she’d missed 3 calls from Georges—the most recent was an hour ago. Furious with herself, she dialed Georges immediately.

“What’s happened? I’m so sorry—I didn’t hear the phone ring—the ringer must have been too low,” June said apologetically.

“It’s all right, June. Suzanne has received the injection of antibodies, and she is now off the ventilator—for now, at least—but they are keeping it at the ready should she need it again. The fever is much improved--it’s still elevated, but only 2 points above normal. And they’re going to test her blood in another hour or so to see if the antibodies have started to replicate—if that happens, she will feel much better, very quickly.”

“Is she awake yet?”

“She did wake up for a few minutes—Lizette explained to her what had happened, and what the treatment plan was. Of course, she wanted to know how she managed to be exposed to anthrax, and so Lizette told her that we thought it was Fred Waterford, and then her blood pressure started to spike. That’s when Lizette let Jean-Guy and I explain what the retaliation plan was. That calmed her down considerably. Then she fell asleep again.”

“That all sounds promising and much better than when I closed my eyes to take a nap. I can’t believe I slept through your phone calls!” June said, still angry with herself.

“Truthfully, Elizabeth, she looks much better than the last time you saw her. We are all very hopeful,” Georges said.

“Thank you so much, Georges. Hannah is still asleep, so I’m not going to wake her for another couple of hours—then we’ll go down to find you in the waiting room.”

If you give me a 10-minute warning, I can have coffee waiting for you,” Georges said. “And juice for Holly.”

“Georges, you are such an angel. I don’t know what we’d do without you,” June said truthfully.

“It’s nothing, Elizabeth. These are such terrible circumstances. I will feel better when that “putain de salaud” is dead.”

“You know I speak French, right Georges?” June asked.

“Yes—that’s why I said it,” Georges said, chuckling. “Try to get some more sleep, and I’ll see you whenever you get here. Oh, and later today, I’ll send someone to get you and Holly a change of clothes and some toiletries.”

“Thanks Georges—you are amazing. Now that I know Serena seems to have turned a corner, I might be able to relax now.”

June ended the call, got a drink of water, and laid back down on the bed, pulling Hannah close to her. “Mommy, is everything ok? Do we need to get up now?”

“No pumpkin, you can go back sleep for a couple more hours. The medicine is working and Serena is getting better. We’ll go see her in a while—she’s sleeping too.”

“Ok. I’m glad she’s getting better,” Hannah mumbled and tucked her body closer to June and promptly fell back asleep. June was so relieved, she was finally able to relax, and fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Several hours later, June and Hannah returned to the family waiting room, and Georges took charge of entertaining Hannah. June went in search of Lizette for an update on Serena’s condition. She heard laughter, and it was coming from the vicinity of Serena’s room. As she stood in the doorway, the Serena that June saw last night—pale, hooked up to a ventilator and struggling with a high fever--was nowhere in evidence. She was no longer intubated, and she was sitting up in bed, chatting with Lizette in French. The two women clearly had a great deal of affection for each other—June had never seen Serena’s face look so happy in all the time she’d known her. Not wanting to interrupt what was clearly a long overdue reunion, she turned around to head back to the waiting room.

“June? Where are you going?” Serena called out, her voice rough and cracked from having a tube in her throat.

“I was just going to let you two visit some more—I didn’t want to interrupt,” June said, suddenly shy and feeling out of place.

“Nonsense, Elizabeth” Lizette said. “Please come in. I was just about to leave to check her lab results and make sure everything is still on a positive trajectory,” she said as she walked out of the room.

“Hi June,” Serena said. “Are you ok? How’s Hannah?”

“Hey, we’re fine, but never mind us—we didn’t almost die yesterday,” June said, leaning in close to Serena’s face, their foreheads touching. “Jesus, I’ve been terrified, Serena,” she whispered. “No more getting anthrax poisoning again, ok?” June softly kissed Serena’s lips, ran her fingers through her hair, and took the hand not connected to an IV into her own.

“I’m so sorry I scared you—truly I am. We were supposed to be celebrating our escape, and instead, you and your daughter are sitting vigil by my hospital bed,” Serena said. “Fred Waterford—the gift that keeps on fucking giving. If I wasn’t trapped in this hospital bed, I would go back to Gilead and rip Fred’s throat out personally. That fucking coward. Hey, did Lizette test both of you for anthrax too? You might have been exposed.”

“She did test us, as soon as she realized what it was. Hannah’s test showed no exposure. I have had some exposure, but the doctor started me on a course of antibiotics—she doesn’t think I’ll experience any symptoms,” June explained.

“I’m glad—there’s no need for two of us to have near death experiences just 24 hours after escaping hell,” Serena said, bringing June’s hand up to her lips to deposit a kiss. “So, I’m imaging that hanging out with this bunch of ‘ACME employees’ for the past couple of days means that you know a lot more about me than you did before. And before you say anything, I swear I was going to tell you everything—I thought there would be plenty of time,” Serena explained.

“I know some stuff, and surmised the rest. You work for a spy agency, and you’ve been on a deep cover assignment for many years as Serena Joy and your mission was to spy on Gilead. We are currently in a super-secret, heavily guarded, spook hospital, and we are all under 24/7 guard, and we have been since we got to Canada, but it’s kicked up a notch since the attempt on your life. There’s currently a hit out on Fred Waterford’s life. How am I doing so far?” June asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Not bad, Sherlock—not bad at all. You’ve got the 40,000-foot view of the situation. And when I have more energy, I’ll tell you anything else you want to know,” Serena said. “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad at you? Why on earth would I be mad at you?” June asked incredulously.

“You have that whole thing about truth and transparency, and I know they are both important to you. But while I was on assignment, I couldn’t blow my cover. I just couldn’t. Too many lives were at stake. So I had to be Serena Joy, supreme cunt of the universe, who existed solely to make Offred’s life miserable at every turn. Blowing my cover would have gotten me killed, and destroyed the mission. I did things I have a hard time living with—I can only imagine how conflicted you must…” Serena stopped talking, as she was starting to run out of breath.”

“Please, don't stress yourself out. I need you to relax. You’re still really weak from the poison. We have plenty of time to work through this shit—and yes, I’ve been conflicted about my feelings for you way before the first time you kissed me. But if anything, Gilead has taught me to be adaptable,” June said, as she stroked Serena’s face.

“Please—just tell me you don’t hate me more than you already do.”

“Serena, I don’t hate you. I really don’t. You’re my hero. You’re Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel all rolled up into one. You saved me, and you saved Hannah—and you didn’t have to. You blew your mission to save us—one that you spent a good chunk of your life invested in and cultivating. I can’t imagine the depth of the sacrifice you made for us, but to look at you and say that I hate you? No,” June said.

“Do you mean that?” Serena asked.

“Yes, I fucking mean it! For the love of god, I prayed for you twice in the last 24 hours, and once for an extended period of time—I even lit a candle, alright? I’m very fucking happy you’re alive and it looks like you’re going to continue to be a pain in my ass for the foreseeable future. Now get better and get out of this fucking bed, and come home with us,” June said, leaning down to steal another kiss.

“Such a sweet-talker,” Serena said, smiling. “How did I get so lucky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? She made it! 💖💖💖💖💖🎉🎉🎉🎉😎😎😎😎


	40. What's next on the horizon?

The antibodies injected into Serena’s bloodstream were the key to her recovery. Every day that passed, Serena got stronger. Within the first week, she regained 50% of her normal lung function, and a follow-up endoscopy showed the internal lesions in her esophagus and stomach had started to heal.

“Lizette says if this ever happens to me again, I’ll be immune,” Serena said to June, as they were walking laps together along the hospital corridor.

“Well, that’s a relief. And what might the chances be of you getting poisoned with Anthrax happening again?” June asked, her eyebrow arched.

“Well, we haven’t talked about my job and all of that yet, and maybe now’s not the best time for that discussion,” Serena said. “This is hard—I want you to know everything, but all of this nearly dying stuff has gotten in the way of the explanation that you deserve.”

“Serena, it’s ok. I know enough, and really—this is your life, and your career. I don’t have a say in anything. I’m just…never mind. Forget I said anything. Whatever you decide to do I’m sure you will carefully consider all of your options, including the possibility that you might be poisoned again while on assignment,” June said, trying not to sound nasty and failing miserably.

“Can we sit for a few minutes, please?” Serena asked as they walked past a patient lounge area that was empty. Serena sat down and closed her eyes for a minute, wincing in pain.

“What’s wrong?” June asked, alarmed.

“It’s just my stomach—it feels a bit like I’m being stabbed by a couple of hot knives. The lesions are healing, but they’re still there. Lizette said I might have continuing pain for a month or so, and since I refused the heavy-duty pain killers they’re offering, this is the price I’m paying,” Serena explained.

“Did Lizette say how long you need to stay in the hospital?” June asked.

“There are a couple of treatment options available. I can stay here, and move to rehab in another week or so. The goal would be to use strict, supervised medical treatment to get my body back up to 100%. The agency also wants to provide the psychological treatment that’s customary when someone returns from a prolonged undercover assignment,” Serena explained. “The physical recovery part will take a couple of weeks—but the psychological might take longer.”

“So what kind of psychological treatment is ‘customary’ following a long assignment? But only tell me if you’re up to it. It can wait for another time if you’re too tired.”

“I’m fine—I can talk about it. But before we start, can you get us something to drink? My throat is still wrecked from having the tube down there.”

“Sure—what would you like?” June asked.

“Tea would be great—something without caffeine. My stomach can’t handle it.”

June went over to the water dispenser in the corner of the lounge and poured two cups of hot water, and from the assortment of tea bags, chose ginger for Serena and lemon for herself. She handed a cup to Serena, sat down, and waited for Serena to start talking.

“Thanks June—Christ am I ever going to start using your new name?” Serena said, shaking her head.

June laughed. “I know, right? These Agency people never forget to call us by our cover names—ever. The only person who uses the name Holly for Hannah is Georges. He never slips, and I am hopeless.”

“Well, they don’t really know you as anyone other than Elizabeth and Holly Prince, so they don’t need to unlearn anything. And they only know me as Suzanne Prince. It’s my real name. While we’re here in this protected environment, and when we’re by ourselves, it doesn’t matter. We can call each other whatever we like,” Serena explained.

“So I’m pretty much the only person that knows you as Serena Waterford, right?” June asked.

Yes—she was my cover identity. The agency built a brilliant persona—complete with a best-selling book written by a ghost writer—and they slapped my picture and “by Serena Joy” on the cover. While it was never the Agency’s intention for me to become such a Gilead ‘superstar’, that’s what happened. It’s how I met Fred, and he saw the value of the book’s ideas, and my persona, for the cause. He’s very good at marketing, and he marketed the hell out of me. And he was my entry point into the world of the Sons of Jacob.”

“Serena, how long were you undercover?” June asked.

“About 16 years, give or take. I was about 23 when the agency asked me to infiltrate the Sons of Jacob. They gave me one day to make my decision, and, after some soul-searching and a discussion with my father, I decided to do it,” Serena said. “My dad had been a deep undercover agent as well, so in a way, it’s the family business. I grew up around spies and diplomats, and I became an expert at keeping secrets.”

“That’s quite a sacrifice you made. I don’t think many people would have made the same choice,” June said, shaking her head.

“Yes, well—I chose the life of a spy, which is a life of lies and deception. I could never expose who I was under any circumstances. Lives were depending on me. I had to do things that were morally reprehensible, illegal and just plain mean—as Serena Waterford. So all of the shitty things I did as Serena were to keep my cover intact. But I had to do a lot of compartmentalizing to get out of bed every morning and live with myself. And now, the mission is over. And Serena doesn’t exist anymore and I’m supposed to go back to the person I was before Gilead. But that’s not an easy thing.”

“I can understand that you’ll need some help trying to figure out where Suzanne starts and where Serena ends. But what kind of treatment can help with that? I’m trying to understand,” June said.

Serena took a sip of tea, and a deep breath. _She doesn’t know—this isn’t her world—this isn’t her reality. You need to be patient._

“Because when you come out of a long-term undercover assignment, like I just did, one of the risks is that you don’t know who the fuck you are anymore. You aren’t the person you were pretending to be, but you’re no longer the person you once were, because the work changed you. It takes time, therapy, and support to return a former undercover operative to the real world. I’m lucky I work for an excellent agency that takes care of their undercover team—for life. Customarily, agents go directly into inpatient deprogramming facility when they return from a long-term assignment. The suicide rate is really high for agents like me. For those that do commit suicide, some do it while they are undercover, or they wait until the assignment is over. The first several weeks are critical.”

“So why didn’t you go right into the hospital?” June asked. 

“Remember when we went to Jean-Guy’s office before we went to the house? He was expecting to escort me to the inpatient program immediately. He’d done a long-term undercover assignment and he knows how valuable the isolated environment and several-times-a-day therapy sessions are. But I decided to decline the inpatient therapy in favor of outpatient therapy.”

“Why on earth did you do that?” June asked incredulously. “After Gilead, I think we could all benefit from long-term, intensive inpatient deprogramming therapy—why would you decline something that might help you?”

“My reasoning, in addition to not wanting to be locked up for an indefinite period of time, was to get you and Hannah settled into the house, and try to find some level of normalcy for myself—whatever that might be. And hope I didn’t lose my shit and do something stupid.”

“Like kill yourself?” June asked, taking hold of Serena’s hand.

“Yeah. Like that,” Serena said quietly. “Maybe it’s for the best that I’ve been in the hospital this past week. I’ve been spending time with one of the deprogramming therapists every day since I regained consciousness. It’s helping a lot, and maybe it deserves a bit of consideration. The fact that I can admit that therapy is helping me means I’m starting to separate myself from invincible Madame Waterford. But that’s a process that started even before we got out of Gilead, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault! What are you talking about?” June asked, taken aback.

“I was undercover for over 16 years, June. 16 years, with no connection to my past life, my family—no one who knew Suzanne. Just me, doing my fucking job. I was lonely, I was scared, and I had to stay 100% focused, because taking my eye off the ball for a minute could get me killed. I lived and breathed Serena Waterford 24/7, and you know what a monster she can be. And I had to live with that snake Fred, and socialize with those miserable Sons of Jacob. The wives were nice enough, but they were either delusional, or just pretending to go along with everything. And then there were those few that were bat-shit crazy and couldn’t handle the violent world they built.

And then you came into my life like a wrecking ball and blew the lid off of my carefully coiffed cover. You made me remember that under the façade of Serena Joy, there was another woman—Suzanne Prince, who liked to run, swim, write, drink too much wine, and stay in bed on Sundays with her girlfriend. You reminded me that there’s more to life than following rules. Through your eyes, I saw how I’d desensitized myself to the everyday horrors we had to endure in Gilead. The longer I was in that house with you, the more impossible it became for me to stay there. In case you didn’t get the memo, I fell pretty hard for you the minute you walked into the Waterford’s that first day, and I fought those feelings as much as I could. Sometimes, I over compensated and I was meaner to you than I ever needed to be, and I’m really sorry about that. My father warned me about getting my heart attached while I was undercover—he told me it could wreck the mission or get me killed. But I couldn’t help it. My feelings for you were making it too hard to be Serena all the time. I started to hate her more than I already did. And then Fred amped up the abuse on me, and I was starting to unravel. You actually saved my life by asking me to get you out of Gilead, because I had started to take my eye off the ball, and that was dangerous—to both of us. And that’s about all I can handle talking about at the moment, and I really want a fucking cigarette right now,” Serena said.

“You had to be on a respirator because of those death sticks—I think you can at least abstain until you’re released from the hospital,” June said.

“Whatever. I guess vodka’s out of the question, as well. What vices am I left with?”

June bit back a saucy reply.

“Wow, June. I’m really impressed! I set you up perfectly for a wise ass, sexually inappropriate response, and you didn’t take the bait! That either means you’re still really worried about me and think I’m fragile, or perhaps the Serena/Suzanne story has left a bad taste in your mouth, and you’re suddenly not interested in fucking me.”

“Oh no—Serena/Suzanne—whoever the fuck you are--I’m completely interested in fucking you, and I was just imagining kneeling on the floor and lifting up that sexy hospital gown and eating your pussy until you scream loud enough for someone to call another Code Blue.”

Serena cocked an eyebrow, then turned her head and looked to see if anyone was around.

“Serena no! We’ll totally get caught, and Thanksgiving is going to be really awkward if everyone sitting at the dinner table has seen me eating your pussy in a hospital lounge,” June said.

“I’ll admit—it might show poor judgement on our parts, but it wouldn’t be the first time we took a risk or two, in the name of pleasure” Serena reasoned, taking June’s hand and placing it underneath her gown, high upon her thigh. “After all, what’s a little embarrassment at the dinner table compared to—well—giving me what I want, and oh fuck, I said that out loud. That was supposed to be a thought bubble.”

June lifted her hand from Serena’s thigh, and brought it to her face, and gently stroked her cheek. “I think I’m understanding the internal struggle you’re having between the woman you were before Gilead, vs. the woman you were portraying in Gilead, vs. the woman who is sitting in front of me right now. Maybe the person you were before Gilead wouldn’t have been so insistent upon having her way right now, but the woman sitting here now has adopted some of Serena Joy’s more—shall we say—assertive behaviors?”

Serena looked down, for a moment. “Yeah. Something like that. I’m so sorry, June. Serena is such a fucking twat and she stomps around on people’s feelings and doesn’t give a fuck about anything except getting what she wants.”

“Well, that’s pretty true,” June said, moving closer to Serena and wrapping her arms around her. “I think I understand a bit of what you’re going through from my own perspective. There’s June before Gilead, there’s Offred and all the shit I had to do to stay alive—some of which you have no knowledge of and would be fairly horrified about--and then there’s me now, currently playing the role of Elizabeth Prince. Those three personas are all very different women. I can never be the June I was before Gilead. I’ve changed too much. So maybe, just maybe, it’s ok for Suzanne Prince, formerly known as Serena Joy, to pick up some of Serena’s behaviors, such as being demanding and petulant about what she wants—especially sex. Lord knows that’s a new skill that June picked up in Gilead. Do you remember how fucking anxious I was over the past few weeks, wondering when the hell I was going to feel your hands on me again? And I had to be super careful, and try to stay away from you because I was terrified that I’d give myself away.”

“It was pretty hard, wasn’t it? There was one night when I was trying so hard not to go to your room—I ended up drinking half a bottle of vodka and smoking a dozen cigarettes,” Serena confessed.

“You made me absolutely crazy. You must have awakened my inner lesbian, and wow did she wake up with a vengeance! I was wet all the time, and making what I thought were audible slishy noises under that foul red gown of mine,” June said. 

“That bad?” Serena asked.

“Yes, Serena. That bad. And it’s not like we ever had a chance to discuss my feelings of constant desire for you—what little time we did have together was spent fucking and talking about escaping.”

“Well, this conversation is actual kind of a relief. I thought I was out there on the ledge by myself, forcing my thoughts away from you, which was the only place my mind wanted to be. Not only had I fallen hard for your feminine charms upon first sight, but it had been a really fucking long time since I’d been with a woman. And in all those 16 years in Gilead, all I’d had besides my own hand and a contraband vibrator that broke 6 years ago was Fred Waterford, who mercifully, only fucked me when he absolutely had to. I was actually thrilled when the Sons of Jacob declared that sex for any other reason than procreation was both a sin and a crime. Since I don’t care for men, and it helped me maintain my cover and preserve the mission,” Serena said.

“My, my, that _is_ a long time to go without sex. No wonder you blew my mind and my body to bits the first time you fucked me.” June said, slipping her hand against Serena’s bare back and ghosting her fingertips over her skin. “I love a hospital gown with an open back, don’t you?” she asked as she continued to run her fingertips over Serena’s skin, sending shivers through her body. “And may I say, your back is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

“June” Serena growled, then caught herself. “What I mean to say is, maybe we should take this down a notch. I think I’m going to leave a giant wet spot on this chair if you don’t stop touching me like that. Almost dying has apparently made me incredibly horny, and for the past 4 days, I’ve been desperate to have your mouth on me, for say—an hour or so. And it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen any time soon.”

“Don’t be too sure about that. In fact, wait right here—don’t move,” June said as she got up quickly and exited the patient lounge.

June returned in about 10 minutes with a wheelchair. “Come on Serena—we’re going on a field trip.”

“What on earth—June, I can’t go anywhere. And I’m in a stupid hospital gown,” Serena said, getting annoyed.

“You’re dressed perfectly appropriately for where we’re going. I have secured permission to take you to my room for a few hours so we can have some privacy and handle your—situation,” June said. “Hannah is at the movies with George, and they are not expected back before 5 o’clock. So come on and get in the chair—tick tock—we don’t have all day,” June said.

“I could kiss you right now, Serena said, getting into the wheelchair. “But I’ll wait until we’re alone and I can kiss you between your legs.”

“That’s my girl!” June said, a grin hijacking her face as she pushed Serena’s chair to the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more chapters of this story to post, and then I'll start the sequel. Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and enjoying this story. I have to write about Serena and June--it's not a want, it's a need. So I appreciate everyone's kudos, comments and encouragement.


	41. The Field Trip

“Honestly, June I can walk,” Serena said, fairly fed-up with being dependent on anyone.

“I know you can. But the only way Lizette would let me do this is that I promised not to let you exert yourself,” June said as the elevator stopped at the 9th floor. 

Serena spun her head around to stare at June. “You’re kidding me, right? You promised not to let me exert myself? Well that’s one promise you’re not going to be able to keep if you want me to fuck you.”

“Don’t worry, about it, Serena—I have a plan. I got us this far, didn’t I?” June said, pulling the wheelchair up to the door of the suite. The guard was still on duty, and after greeting both women, he unlocked the door, and opened it so June could wheel Serena inside. June took him aside for a moment, and he nodded his head, closing the door behind them.

“What did you just say to him?”

“I told him that we were going to be having some pretty loud sex for the next couple of hours, and to guard the door with his life. And if he wanted to listen, that was fine, but not to get caught with his dick in his hand,” June said, smirking as she helped Serena out of the chair and onto the bed.

“That’s pretty funny. But seriously, what did you say?”

“All I said was that we needed some privacy, and if he wouldn’t mind guarding the door from further down the hallway, we’d appreciate it,” June explained, as she kicked her shoes off, pulled her sweater over her head, and pulled her pants off in record time. Serena thought getting naked was an excellent idea, so she pulled her hospital gown off and flung it into the corner of the room.

“Now, I believe you said something about needing my mouth on you for about an hour—let’s see if I can make that dream come true for you,” June said, getting up on the bed and kneeling between Serena’s legs. “Oh—but wait! Where are my manners? I see another pair of lips that need my attention first,” June said as she moved up on the bed and laid down on her side, pulling Serena into her arms. She slowly brought her lips to Serena’s, and when they finally kissed, they both moaned with relief and pleasure. They kissed for a long time, gently at first, then more passionately, as their hands roamed all over each other’s bodies. Serena tried to take control of the situation, and June was having none of it. “Not today, Serena. Just lie back and let me give this to you.”

“June, don’t be silly—I’m not an invalid,” Serena said, as she tried to sit up and flip June on her back—and failed miserably.

“You kind of are, Serena, but that doesn’t matter right now. Please lay down, relax, and just let me give you what you need,” June said, sliding her body down and positioning herself between Serena’s legs. She slid her arms underneath her thighs and pulled her mouth as close to her pussy as possible. June deposited soft kisses on top of her mound, then took her tongue and lapped up the juices that were flowing freely from Serena’s entrance, all the while, running it through her slick folds. She licked Serena’s slit, from bottom to top, with long, strong strokes, pausing occasionally to nibble at her clit, or to slide her tongue inside of her for a few strokes. Serena was moaning, running her hand over her stomach and breasts, and loving every little thing June’s tongue was doing to her. June lifted her head to check in, “Are you ok, Serena? Is anything hurting you, or are you out of breath?”

“The only thing that aches is my pussy, but your tongue is doing an excellent job of soothing it. Please carry on.”

“Yes m’aam,” June said as she resumed her focus on making Serena—and her pussy—very happy. She was conscious about her promise to Lizette not to ‘over-exert her’, but still—a girl has needs--and this could be considered both physical and psychological therapy for Serena. Deciding that fucking her would probably be ok as long as she didn’t pound the hell out of her, she slid two fingers inside Serena while she sucked her clit into her mouth and swirled it with her tongue, putting just the right amount of pressure on it. Serena grabbed onto the sheets with one hand, and pushed June’s head down firmly with the other. “Fuck that’s nice, June,” Serena said, her moans getting louder and more insistent. June took the hint, and sucked and licked her clit in just that special spot that she liked, and within a few minutes, she felt Serena’s body tense, right before she came, arching her back and calling her name. June cleaned Serena’s juices with her tongue, and stayed inside her until her spasms ended. Then she slid her body up next to her, and laid her head on Serena’s chest, while Serena wrapped her arms around her. Serena was quiet, and her body was completely relaxed. June pulled the covers up over them, and within a few minutes, Serena’s even breathing told her that she’d fallen asleep. June listened to the sound of her heartbeat—steady and strong--and felt, for the first time in a week, like she could finally exhale.

Serena woke up a couple of hours later to find June still lying in her arms, in the exact same position that she’d last seen her. "Did I pass out on you, June? I am so sorry—what time is it? Do I still have time to…?”

June pressed her index finger over Serena’s lips. “Shush. Relax. This was about you, not about me. I take it as a huge compliment that you were so relaxed after you came that you just passed out. So give me a kiss and then let me help you get dressed so I can bring you back to your room. If we want to be able to do this again sometime, we can’t show up late.”

“I don’t want to go back. I know I’m still recovering and I have a long way to go—but I don’t want to go back. And I definitely don’t want to do the inpatient thing for longer than I have to,” Serena said, her jaw set stubbornly.

“Hey, it’s your life, Serena—you get to do whatever you think is best. If you think you can successfully recover from anthrax poisoning and from being Serena Waterford for almost half of your life—all on your own—more power to you. But it’s not weak to need help. It’s not weak to let others help carry your burden.”

Serena was silent, and her face had a hard look to it that was familiar to June. _Oh fuck, here we go…she’s going to make me pull this out of her._

“Why don’t you tell me why you don’t want to go back to your hospital room, and why you don’t want to stay as an inpatient for a few more weeks?” June asked.

“I can’t sleep there. That’s why I passed out like I did just now—that was the most uninterrupted sleep I’ve had since I was admitted. I’m kind of a light sleeper—because I’m hyper-vigilant—and they’re constant checking my temperature, changing the IV, giving me pills to take, taking my blood pressure. I’m exhausted.”

“Have you talked to your doctor or any of the nurses about this? I’m going to guess that this is a pretty common problem in a hospital,” June said.

“No—I don’t want to be ungrateful. They’re just doing their jobs,” Serena said, taking her hospital gown from June and sliding it over her shoulders.

“Maybe it’s time to have a case management meeting and discuss how they might be able to help you get better sleep in the short term. And in the long term, they can explain the deprogramming treatment options, the pros and cons of each, and you can make the decision that feels right for you. I’ll support whatever you want as long as you’re not being an idiot about it. The only real reason to keep you as an inpatient is to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. And you know, and I know, that you and Serena are fighting a war inside of you, and I’m not sure if you’re a match for her just yet—she’s pretty formidable. You might need more help. You’ve had the shit kicked out of you.”

“That care planning meeting is a good idea—we can sit down with them and discuss the options. But there are a couple of other reasons that I want to try the outpatient therapy , including the fact that it’s time to bring Nichole back to you,” Serena said, watching June’s face for her reaction.

“What?” June said, her face registering shock. “Are you serious? I thought it would take months and months! When can I take her home?”

“I don’t think it will take that long. I will speak with Jean-Guy tomorrow so he can put reuniting you and Nichole at the top of his to-do list. You and he will need to discuss some of the legal paperwork that we need to create for her so that her identity is completely untraceable. Baby Nichole is still a thing in Gilead, so she needs a new identity as much as any of us do—probably more. He’ll have to have a new birth certificate created, and do whatever else is needed. He’ll go over everything with you,” Serena said.

“Wow—I can’t believe any of this! We’ve only been here less than 2 weeks and we’re talking about bringing our baby home!” June said, tears of joy springing from her eyes.

Serena took her hands, and said, “June, just so that we’re perfectly clear, I am well aware that Nichole is 100% your daughter. We aren’t in Gilead anymore. She isn’t really our baby, even I still feel like she is,” she said quietly. “I want you do know that I am releasing you from any promise you made to Serena and/or me to share her.”

“Serena, I know she’s my daughter, but also know how much you love her, and the tremendous sacrifice you made to save her and all of us. And I made a promise, and it wasn’t a Gilead, ‘cross my fingers behind my back’ promise, but a real one,” June said firmly. “I just have one question for you--do you love Nichole?”

“Of course I do. You know I do! I wasn’t pretending that.”

“Good. That’s really all I need to know. I’ll talk to Jean-Guy tomorrow about the paperwork and start the ball rolling.”

“All right,” Serena said, leaning back into the pillows to catch her breath.

“Serena, are you ok? What’s wrong?” June said alarmed.

“Nothing—I’m just exhausted. I’ve been doing a lot of talking about some important topics—I should have paced myself,” Serena said. “Can you take me back to my room please?”

“But Serena…”

“June, it’s fine. You’re getting your daughter back, and Jean-Guy will handle the details with you. Whatever you decide to do is fine with me,” Serena said, sitting upright and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Now, I’m going to need you to bring that chair over here and put the arm down so I can slide myself into it. I can’t really walk right now.”

“Fuck, I’m going to get in such trouble for bringing you back over-exerted,” June said as she followed the instructions and spotted Serena while she transferred herself into the wheelchair.

“Can you grab a blanket from the closet for the ride back? I’m kind of cold now,” Serena said, shivering.

June grabbed a spare blanket, covered Serena with it, and pushed the chair out the door and towards the elevator. As they waited for it, June leaned down and said, “I’m so sorry I let you tire yourself out. I really did just want to lick you for an hour and take a nap with you,” June said.

“I know. And trust me—it was amazing, and brought me more peace than any pain-killer they can serve up to me. But this is my fault. Apparently, I don’t know how to shut up and pace myself when it comes to serious conversations—I’m stubborn that way. And I’m having a truckload of feelings that I haven’t the slightest idea how to handle, and I just want to go to sleep,” Serena said, as they rode the elevator to her floor, and June piloted the chair back to her room. She had Serena settled back in her bed and tucked in before her nurse came by to check her vitals. As she took her blood pressure, pulse, temperature and listened to her heart, June was panicking. _What if she’s having a relapse and it’s my fault for pushing her too hard? We cannot have these fucking conversations anymore until she’s out of here!_ June thought.

“All your vital signs are normal, so it looks like you followed the doctor’s instructions and took it easy,” the nurse said, smiling at Serena.

“Yep, that’s us—rule followers—isn’t that right Elizabeth?”

“That’s right” June replied as the nurse left the room.

“There, June—you’re not in trouble. Now get the fuck out of my room, turn the light off and close the door—maybe I can get a half hour nap in before they come in and poke at me again.”

“Two out of three ain’t bad,” June said, as she closed Serena’s door, shut the lights off, and came back to sit at the side of the bed.

“June come on—just leave me alone. I’m tired and…I just can’t anymore. It’s exhausting trying to undo all the horrible things Serena did, and sometimes it wasn’t her, and now Suzanne wants to do the right things and I’m breaking my own heart,” Serena said, rolling over and pushing her face into her pillow to muffle her tears.

“Serena, stop it. Stop it! We are ok. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You stop it—stop pretending that it’s all going to be all right. I cannot undo all the shit I did to you, and it’s not even worth trying, so just stop it. Get out of my room, and let me cry in peace. I’m literally falling apart.”

June slipped her shoes off and climbed into Serena’s hospital bed and spooned her, pulling her cold, spent body close to hers. 

“Fuck you, Serena. And fuck you too, Suzanne. My name is Elizabeth. But you can call me June-- and I’m not fucking leaving you.”


	42. Just tell her the truth

Serena had indeed, over-exerted herself . She spent the next few days struggling with exhaustion, and it took all of energy to focus on the twice daily physical therapy sessions. Her therapist gently admonished her for her impatience--she was very lucky to have survived the anthrax poisoning, because most people don’t. Serena took his message to heart, and although she was happy to see June whenever she came to visit, she mostly napped, and stayed away from big conversations. She felt safe with June, and falling asleep was easy. Sometimes, June crawled into bed with her and they napped together, and those moments were some of the most peaceful that Serena had enjoyed in years.

Jean-Guy came to visit a few days later. She suggested they sit outside, so he wheeled her outdoors and they enjoyed the hospital’s small meditation garden and the sunshine. It was a bit chilly, but Serena didn’t care. It was just nice to be outside of the hospital, and she had a sweater to keep her warm. Serena held her palm out to Jean-Guy and in a practiced move, he produced a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket, shook one out, and passed it to her with his lighter.

“Thank you for not lecturing me,” Serena said, and she held the cigarette between her lips and lit it, enjoying her first smoke since she left Gilead. “This is almost better than sex, but not quite,” Serena said, her body relaxing from the familiar feeling brought on by the nicotine.

“I hope your sex life is better than that cigarette, otherwise, you’re not doing it right,” Jean-Guy said laughing.

Serena just smiled like a cat who just finished a saucer of cream, and continued to smoke.

“Did you talk to Elizabeth yet—about the Agency?” he asked.

“Yes, I did. She’s smart, so of course, she’s figured out a lot on her own,” Serena said, stretching her legs out in front of her and flicking her cigarette ash.

“I have to ask you—are you sure about her? Can she be trusted? Your mission is over, but you are all still in danger. We’ve been keeping the newspapers away from her as much as possible, because we don’t want to frighten her. But Gilead is pounding its chest, threatening military action with any country they believe is harboring you. And of course, Canada is suspect number one. If Elizabeth gets frightened and either runs away, or starts talking to someone she shouldn’t, she’ll put herself, her daughter, and you at risk.”

“Jean-Guy, you know I love your suspicious, spook-like mind. But I’m going to need you to trust me on this. Stop hiding the newspapers from June—I mean Elizabeth. God damn it I’m never going to get that name right! She’s an intelligent woman, and all she has to do is turn the television on to find out what’s happening. If there is something you don’t want her to know, then you probably shouldn’t tell me either—because I am done keeping secrets from her. So can we find a better way to communicate with her rather than hiding things and lying to her? I trust her, and I believe in time, you’ll see that you can trust her as well,” Serena said, putting her cigarette out and tossing the butt into her empty tea cup. She held her hand out for another one, and Jean-Guy ignored her.

“For you, Suzanne, I will try to trust her. I promise.”

“Thank you. And I know that trusting people isn’t one of your strengths, so I appreciate the effort,” Serena said. “And now, to change the subject completely, how are things progressing with getting Nichole back with June?”

“Do you think that getting Nichole back—right now, while you’re in the hospital for an indeterminate amount of time, and Elizabeth is on her own with Holly—is a good idea?” Jean-Guy asked. “I’m no child-psychologist, but it seems that she and Holly need some time to themselves after being separated for several years. They both were kidnapped for Christ’s sake. I think it would be better to bring Nichole back into your lives when you are home—after you’ve had a chance to re-integrate yourself into your new life. By then, you, Holly and Elizabeth will be ready to take Nichole in. I think you’re rushing things.”

“Jean-Guy—Nichole is her daughter. The best time to bring her back to her mother is immediately. Hannah asks about her sister every day, and wants to know when I’m going to bring her back. And I’ve already spoken with June and told her that it’s time. There is no such thing as a more convenient time for a mother. She wants her baby, and she wants her baby right now. Whether I am in the hospital or not.”

“But how will she manage on her own? You’ll be in the hospital and won’t be home for months—hell, when you are in the inpatient program you won’t even be able to speak with Elizabeth,” Jean-Guy said, trying to reason with her.

“We’ll hire a nanny to help with the kids,” Serena said. “And I have not decided on my course of treatment yet. After being imprisoned in Gilead, with no books, and no writing, and absolutely zero fun, I’m not inclined to have myself locked up in the spook-equivalent of a convent so I can play with my feelings with a bunch of other agents coming in from the field. The days of the Agency separating me from people I care about are finished. You have no fucking idea what we just lived through. June is scared, traumatized, and alone, and all she has is me and her kids. And her one connection to this new life almost died last week. She already knows that Gilead is after us, even if you’re not giving her daily updates. The last thing she needs is for me to disappear into the bowels of the spook hospital—that would be very selfish on my part. In fact, the more we talk about this, the more I’m convinced that outpatient therapy will be adequate. I’m grateful to be out of that hell hole, and I am all too aware that a lot of Serena has rubbed off onto my personality. That’s always been one of the challenges of working undercover. And I’ll have to watch that carefully and who better to help me than June? She’s hyper-tuned to Serena’s outbursts, mannerisms, and her less-appealing qualities. Trust me—she'll tell me when I’m turning into Madame Waterford and set me right,” Serena said confidently.

“Suzanne, don’t be hasty—inpatient therapy is grueling, but when it works the way it’s supposed to, you walk out of the inpatient program with the skills you need to move forward in your life. Outpatient therapy will take much longer, and you’ll have to juggle your relationship, taking care of the kids, and just learning to be a regular person,” Jean-Guy said. “We can keep Elizabeth safe while you’re in the hospital. Georges is very good with her. They like each other genuinely. He enjoys taking care of them, and she is beginning to trust him. She asks him a lot of questions about Gilead and whether or not they are still after you, and so far, he’s deflected. He tells her about the search for Waterford to appease her, but that won’t last for long. We don’t know how she’ll react when she finds out there’s an all-out woman-hunt going on for the three of you."

Serena was quiet. She was trying not to go full-on Serena Joy Waterford on her friend, because he just simply didn’t understand who the fuck he was dealing with. _Breathe…just breathe…he is trying to help, even if he sucks at it._

“Let me make this simple for you Jean-Guy. And pay attention—because I’m done repeating myself. June already believes that Gilead is hunting for us. So she gets the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—all the time. If she’s scared, then you and Georges sit with her, calm her down, and get her a god-damned Agency therapist that she can talk to about all this spy stuff. If I go into the inpatient program, and right now, it feels like a big ‘if’, June will be able to talk to me at least once a day on the phone—if she wants to--and we will see each other—in person—once a week. That will provide some amount of support and connection for her. And don’t roll your fucking eyes at me, because outpatient therapy is feeling like the best option at this moment. And she gets Nichole as soon as possible. Do you understand me?” Serena said, trying not to take on the menacing tone she was dying to channel.

“You know, Serena Waterford is not that different than Suzanne Prince when she’s pissed off. I think your integration is coming along nicely,” Jean-Guy said with a slight smile. “All right. We’ll do it your way, but please, just try the inpatient therapy—even a couple of weeks will help you tremendously.”

“We’ll see. I’m still negotiating with the Director, and I have a lawyer reviewing all of the paperwork associated with voluntarily joining the program—either inpatient or outpatient. I want to make sure there is no fine print anywhere that takes any of my personal rights away.”

Jean-Guy cocked his eyebrow, and scoffed at her. “Aren’t you being a bit paranoid? You’ve worked for the Agency for a long time—surely you know they have your health and well-being in mind. The Agency just wants to protect you—not control you.”

“Sometimes, that’s the same thing,” Serena replied. “Jean-Guy, it was terrible there. Women were chattel—kept ignorant and unable to read, write, exchange ideas, or have free conversations. Everything was monitored, and the slightest hint that you were not 100% pro-Gilead could have you killed—even if it wasn’t true. I’m done being anyone’s property, and that includes the Agency. And the responsibility for making sure no one treats me like that ever again is mine. Gilead came to exist because people let small losses of freedom slip away from them, without voicing their outrage. So if I want to have my lawyer review any documents I’m asked to sign, then that’s my choice. Now, back to Nichole—what’s the hold-up in getting her back? I think June has waited long enough.”

“There is no hold up. I spoke with June, and she understands that we have to create a new identity for her, including a birth certificate. June asked if we could provide a few options to protect your rights to Nichole in the event that something should ever happen to her. We suggested creating a will that would name you as Nichole’s testamentary guardian in the event of June’s death. Hannah’s too, by the way. She liked that idea, and thought it went well with your cover identities. She made a joke about making sure it doesn't look like you knocked up your dead brother’s widow. She’s quite funny, isn’t she?” Jean-Guy said chuckling.

“Oh, she’s a riot. And a handful,” Serena agreed.

“You may want to update your will—it clearly needs to accommodate all of the changes in your life.”

“I’m ahead of you on that one. My lawyer is already working on it. If anything happens to me, June and the girls will be taken care of,” Serena said.

“I’m very glad she decided to bring up including you herself, since you all but forbade me from mentioning it to her. If we get all the paperwork done at the same time, we can make Nichole’s identity change untraceable.”

“I’m grateful that she wants to include me—I don’t need anything more than that,” Serena assured him. “As soon as possible, please let us know when we can expect Nichole back with us. It’s important to move fast.”

“Understood, Suzanne—I’m on it.”


	43. Considering all the options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning that there is a discussion of the dangers and risks of suicide for agents returning for long-term undercover assignments, and the importance of alerting doctors if suicidal thoughts become prevalent, but that is as far as it goes. I'm also not a licensed therapist or medical doctor, so any errors in the discussion of the therapy and personality disorders are my own.

“Good morning, Elizabeth. I’m Dr. Klein. Please have a seat.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” June sat at the long, boardroom table in an office tucked away on a lower floor of the hospital. Serena had wanted her to learn more about the deprogramming therapy options, so she’d agreed to meet with the program director.

“This is a program developed for agents who have returned from an assignment that required them to adopt new identities, and completely subvert their old ones. Most agents go undercover for a year or two, or even as long as five years. I’ve worked with one returning agent who was in the field for eight years. But Suzanne’s case is unique in the length of time she stayed on the mission, as well as the high level of celebrity and notoriety that she attained while she was undercover as Serena Joy Waterford. So while we will apply all our experience and learnings on what we know to be effective with these agents, I want to be transparent and say that I expect a curve ball or two to be thrown at us. The road to re-entry into society is not a straight path. There are many twists and turns.”

While June listened carefully and tried to take in all the information, Dr. Klein went over the stages of the program. “The model we use to treat our patients is built on many years of research and experience working with combat veterans who have been exposed to, or had to commit, extreme levels of violence. I know Suzanne’s role was as a “wife” in Gilead, but the daily exposure to violence was tremendous. The beatings she experienced were severe enough to leave permanent scars, and her severed finger is a daily reminder of her experiences.”

“Yeah, Gilead was rough—on all of us,” June said quietly. _The more he’s talking, the more I think I need inpatient therapy. I’m as delusional as Serena if I think I can handle this shit on my own. I’m not leaving without a referral for a good therapist for me and Hannah._

 _“_ The care team assigned to Suzanne has met several times to plan her course of therapy—of course, your name has come up in our discussions, but more than just as Suzanne’s partner. We understand from Suzanne that the two of you shared the trauma of life in Gilead, as well the trauma you experienced at the hands of her cover identity—Serena Waterford. And your intimate relationship started when you knew her only as Serena. That must be very confusing for you.”

“Honestly, if I think about it too much, it makes me think I’m losing my mind,” June said, frankly.

“I can understand that. And we want to support you and help you work through all of these issues. And know this is hard for you, but if you can, I’d appreciate your perspective on what you see as some of your challenges—as well as Suzanne’s challenges—so we can build a course of treatment to help you both integrate into the world outside of Gilead,” Dr. Klein asked.

“Let’s see. I was captured, brainwashed, and assigned to live with the Waterfords. My entire purpose was to get pregnant, give birth to a healthy child, and then give that child away to Serena Waterford. Every month, her husband raped me while she held me down. I did some shit too—I escaped, I got a man killed for helping me, and I got his child taken away from its mother and they made her into a Handmaid. Under Serena’s direction, I was impregnated by a guy that was one of the servants, then had an affair with him. I got pregnant, the baby’s father tried to help me escape, but they caught me in a hail of gunfire as my plane was trying to take off. I was dragged back to Gilead and to the Waterford’s until I had the baby. Then Serena took the baby, then she let me get the baby out of Gilead to safety. Then I came back to their house, back to the normal monthly Gilead ritualized rape. Her husband got extra brutal, she and I somehow got close, and I asked her to get me and my daughter out of Gilead. She did, we’re here in Nova Scotia and not 24 hours after we escape, she almost dies of anthrax poisoning. Gilead tried to kill her, and now they are after me and both my daughters. And Suzanne tells me that she needs some sort of therapy program to help re-orient her to live outside of Gilead, and back to the person that she used to be. She doesn’t know where Serena stops and where she begins. She is actually more Serena than she is Suzanne right now. All I really know is that Suzanne Prince got us out of Gilead. And so did Serena Waterford. And I’m involved in a relationship with a hybrid version of both of them.”

“That’s a very insightful and adaptive perspective. And that’s an awful lot to unpack. But I believe we can help the two of you as you navigate through these complex issues of identity. Part of the program we’re designing for Suzanne will include you—if you are willing to participate. The fact that the two of you have endured a very violent, tempestuous relationship in Gilead presents some unique opportunities. Suzanne has a lot of guilt and anguish over the things that she had to do to survive—especially when it comes to what she did to you. An important component of her integration and healing will be to include you in some of the therapeutic sessions. And, if this is a goal for both of you, it can help foster the emotional health of your relationship going forward. These sessions would need to be in conjunction with your own personal therapy—which I hope you plan on starting soon,” Dr. Klein said.

“Actually, I was hoping that perhaps you might have a referral for me—and one for my daughter. We were hunted down and captured, then separated—she was adopted into a Gilead Commander’s family, while I lived at the Waterford’s as the Handmaid. She’s really glad to be out of there, but I know re-entry has been rough for both of us,” June explained.

“Absolutely—and I’ll find someone who is experienced in working with trauma cases such as yours and your daughter’s. Your individual therapy, combined with the therapeutic sessions you’ll take part in as part of this program, will not be easy—but it will put you firmly on the road to recovery, and enjoying your new life as a free woman.”

“How long is the inpatient program, Doctor?” June asked.

“There is no set length of time for the inpatient program. It’s all dependent on what the participant needs, which therapies are most effective for them, and how much effort they put into it. It also depends on how damaged they are from their undercover assignment. I will tell you that Suzanne was chosen for the Gilead assignment because she has an exceptionally resilient spirit, and her psyche is strong. So that is in her favor as far as her recovery is concerned,” Doctor Klein said.

“Just give me some milestones or something—I do know the first 2 weeks are for inpatient physical and psychological therapy. But after that, what’s expected of her? Serena and I have spoken about this, and she’s adamant that she not be separated from her family any longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“She will always be a voluntary participant, and she can leave the inpatient or the outpatient program at any time. The program is challenging. Most of the agents who go through it are generally loners—men and women who haven’t developed important relationships that they want to maintain while they go through the program. Generally, we prefer a therapeutic environment that is completely isolated from the outside world. That can be for just the two-week initial period, or it can extend for several months. Then we try to re-integrate the individual into their new world. Suzanne would have day passes to visit with you and with her other friends, and after a few successes, we would expand to a couple of overnight visits, and then full-time back at home and a resumption of outpatient therapy.”

 _That sounds like a really fucking long time…no wonder she’s balking and lobbying hard for outpatient therapy,_ June thought.

“And can you talk about what outpatient therapy would look like for her?” June asked.

“Suzanne would live at home with you and your daughter—or daughters depending on how quickly the agency is able to arrange for your youngest to return. She would come to the hospital 6 days a week for the first month, 5 days for the 2nd month, and then move from full day programming to either 3 days a week, or 5 half-day sessions—for 6 months to 2 years or more. Then she’ll go to once weekly until she feels comfortable with her progress, and then it would be a monthly or bi-monthly check in.”

“You have pretty defined time periods for the out-patient program, as opposed to the inpatient program. Why is that?” June asked.

“It’s because of me,” Serena said, walking slowing into the conference room.

“Good morning, Suzanne! I’m so glad you were able to join us,” Dr. Klein said, smiling as he rose and pulled out a chair for her. “I was just filling Elizabeth in on the outpatient program. And yes, Suzanne is correct of course. She has been fairly insistent that she participate on an outpatient-only basis, and she asked us to provide more defined timelines and milestones. It’s still a huge time commitment, and she’ll spend the majority of her time at the hospital, except that she’d be home for dinner, and she would be living at home and sleeping in her own bed.”

“What’s the main risk of refusing the inpatient therapy?” June asked.

“They’re afraid I’m going to kill myself,” Serena said matter-of-factly.

“Suicide is a very big concern. But there are a number of medications we can use to combat the depression. But if suicidal ideation becomes an issue, inpatient treatment will no longer be optional—it will be mandatory. We’ll need Suzanne to be vigilant in letting her doctors and therapists know when the feelings are overwhelming her and she feels in danger of harming herself.”

“And why would she even tell anyone if she was feeling suicidal if she knows it’s going to get her locked up against her will?” June said reasonably.

“Everyone will just have to trust me,” Serena said. “I have never thought about killing myself while I was undercover, and I’ve not thought about it since I’ve been outside of Gilead. Well, sometimes the pain in my stomach is so intense that I wish I could die, but that’s not quite the same thing.”

“And then, there’s the stubbornness about medication,” Dr. Klein said, looking serious and addressing Serena directly. “As an undercover agent, you were trained never to take anything stronger than an aspirin, for fear of lowering your defenses. Apparently, that’s become ingrained in you. But Suzanne, you are no longer on assignment. You can take something for the pain, which will also help you feel more comfortable to sleep at night. And depending on your evaluation with your psychiatrist, medication might be recommended as part of your therapy to stabilize your mood.”

 _There’s medication to make her be less like Serena Waterford? Where was that when I was in Gilead?_ June thought.

“I think that living in a normal house, with my normal girlfriend and her normal kids will be excellent medicine, combined with being shrink-wrapped daily by your team,” Serena said. “And I promise, I won’t kill myself, and if I start fantasizing about killing myself, I’ll check myself into the hospital.”

June was on the verge of asking her to pinky swear, but then remembered she only had one—and June didn’t want to risk it.

“So may I ask, will I be part of Suzanne’s outpatient therapy as well? Because before, you talked about our shared experiences in Gilead and how important it will be to work through all of that. And to be honest, I’d rather work on those sorts of issues in a safe setting, away from the kids, and we need a referee,” June said bluntly.

“Yes, Elizabeth—there will be at a minimum, weekly sessions with the two of you, and perhaps more frequently if there are issues that are arising in your relationship that you need help navigating,” Dr. Klein said.

“Serena, did you know about that part of the program?” June asked.

“Yes, and I think it’s a really good idea. For lots of reasons, but a peaceful home is probably the most important one. I know I have a lot of making up to do, and a lot of forgiveness to ask for—but I’ll do whatever I it takes.”

“Well, think about the options, and discuss it with each other. You can let me know your answer by the end of the week. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will take my leave. You two have a lot to discuss.”

“Thank you doctor,” June said, and he left the room, closing the door behind him. “Why do I have the feeling that you were not exactly invited to this meeting?”

“Because you’re smart. And you know Serena. And at the moment, Suzanne and Serena are making joint decisions.”

“Is it healthy to talk about yourself in the third person like that? Isn’t that how people with multiple personalities talk amongst themselves? And I’m not being funny—I really want to understand.”

“When I say, “Serena is making the decisions”, I’m saying that I’m well aware that this might not seem like the best choice, but you know her as well as I do, and she’s not moving off this position anytime soon. So it helps me look rationally at the situation, what’s motivating her to draw that line in the sand, and try to understand, rather than be angry that I’ve lost control of myself and I don’t know who I am,” Serena explained. “And sometimes, we are in complete agreement—meaning Serena and Suzanne. As we are on the inpatient vs. outpatient therapy options.”

“So all of your little personalities think that you can do this and you won’t try to kill yourself in the process?” June asked. “Because at the end of the day, you have to wrestle an evil, monstrous cunt to the ground—but you can’t hate her, because some of her is now part of who you are. So you can wrestle her, but you can’t kill her, and just talking about this makes my head spin.”

Serena reached over and took June’s hand. “It’s a lot, I know. How about I promise to stay a minimum of 2 weeks inpatient, which will include the physical therapy I need to get back my strength, and the psychological deprogramming. After that, I will decide if I want to stay for awhile longer, or switch to outpatient. And I promise that if I’m getting overwhelmed and I feel like I’m in danger, I’ll say something. And, I’m going to start taking something for the pain. I’m doing myself more harm than good by enduring it when there’s an easy fix. And maybe it will help with the sleep thing.”

“That sounds pretty reasonable,” June said, slightly relieved that Serena was going to at least try the inpatient program.

“Now, if you’re not busy for the rest of the day, might I interest you in field trip?” Serena asked.

June sighed. “I know sex is our go-to coping mechanism for all things uncomfortable, but right now, I’m just really fucking sad. I hate that we have to go through this and there isn’t a road map. I know how fucked up I am, and I can see how fucked up you are…”

“Hey!” Serena said, outraged.

“Dial it back Mrs. Waterford! In your rationale moments, you know just exactly how fucked up you are, so don’t sit there and try to tell me that you have your shit together, because you absolutely don’t. And I don’t know what the right thing for you to do is. Hell, if I had the chance to go into an inpatient program to try to de-Gilead myself, I’m pretty sure I would do it. But I have Hannah, and Nichole could be here any day—I have to take care of them first.”

“That’s a huge part of why I don’t want to go inpatient for an extended period of time, June. I don’t want to leave you by yourself with one, or possibly two kids, in a new place, where you don’t know anyone except Agency people, and you having to navigate it on your own,” Serena explained. “It feels very selfish of me to do that to you. And as far as why I’m feeling confident about the outpatient therapy will work for me—for us—is because you know Serena, and you know when I’m getting all Mrs. Waterford-ish. You did it just now, and you can spot her coming a mile away. You’ll be able to give me a warning when you see her coming—maybe we could use something like a safe word. If you say it, I have to shut my mouth immediately and leave the room until I can get Mrs. Waterford under control. I’m usually pretty good at knowing when she’s rearing her vicious little head, but sometimes it happens without my knowing it—especially if I’m over-tired.”

“I would have hoped we would have a safe word for a more fun activity, but living with Serena Waterford is pretty similar to what I imagine life with a Dominatrix would be like. So as fucked up as it sounds, it’s worth a shot,” June said.

“So a field trip today is out of the question?” Serena said, batting her eyes at June.

“Well, Hannah’s with her tutor all day, and I happen to have stashed a bottle or two of wine in the apartment,” June said. “I’d be happy to get away from here for a few hours and get drunk with you and watch a movie. I can’t promise anything more beyond that.”

“Sounds like heaven to me—let me go change into some real clothes and maybe you can find Lizette and get me a permission slip. She has trouble saying no to you, but she has no problem ordering me around,” Serena said.

“Well, I’ll have to ask her what her secret is. I haven’t tried ordering you around yet, but it sounds like something I’d definitely like to try,” June said, as they got up from the table and exited the conference room.


	44. Special Agent Prince saves the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of girls watching a movie, and taking a nap when all hell breaks loose. And June gets to see another side of Serena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters and it doesn't advance the plot much, but it's been heavy for awhile, and I just needed to interject some joy and fun into the story. It's a balance with these two, but fortunately, they have pretty good coping mechanisms, and they are learning more day by day.

They had just finished the first bottle of wine, and when June asked her if she wanted a refill, Serena declined.

“How do I read the refusal of something that gives you pleasure and that you’ve used as a pain killer of sorts?” June asked, as she got up and went to the kitchen, put the wine away, and returned with two glasses of sparkling water.

“No real reason. It was nice, and it helped me relax a little, but I’ve had enough—of the wine, I mean,” Serena said. 

“Watch the movie, Serena,” June said as she laid against Serena, enjoying the feeling of her lover’s arms wrapped around her.

“Yes, dear,” Serena said, placing a kiss on top of June’s head. “This is nice—it’s different, but it’s nice. We never really had time for snuggling before.”

“Too busy trying not to get caught fucking each other and being hung up on the wall,” June said, unsmiling. “I feel like after the past couple of weeks, I need to be held for at least a month, watch nothing but Disney movies, and perhaps suck my thumb.”

“Hmmm…I’m thinking that you’ve moved past sex as your go-to coping mechanism, but you may have reverted a bit far,” Serena said, gently stroking June’s forearms.

“Nah—I just flip flop a bit. The visit with the program director freaked me out. The hospital freaks me out. Being alone freaks me out. In short, everything freaks me out, so I’m just going to follow my gut on what I’m feeling at any given moment, and what I need right now is exactly what we’re doing,” June said. “It also helps me to feel like we have more to offer each other than just mind-blowing sex. I didn’t know you could feel so calm and peaceful. That’s never a vibe I’ve gotten from you.”

“Well, I get to be different now. My guard was never totally down in Gilead. And it certainly was not safe to lie around in each other’s arms, drinking wine and watching a movie. We had a lot of adrenaline coursing through our veins for much of the time. Especially when we found the chance to be with each other,” Serena said. “I hope you like this part of me too.”

“I could most definitely get used to this,” June said. And I’m less snarky—have you noticed?”

“I have noticed, and I’m not sure I like it. But I figure you’re just taking it easy on me because I’m weak and off my game still.”

“Yep—that’s it exactly. Can’t kick a girl when she’s already down,” June said, and they settled into companionable silence while the movie continued to play. Both of them fell asleep, right where they were, and didn’t wake up until June’s cell phone rang a couple of hours later.

“Hello?” June said, her voice rough with sleep. “Well I don’t know if he’s here or not. I thought you kept tabs on your guards. All right—we will. See you soon.”

“What was that?” Serena asked, sitting up.

“Jean-Guy. He cannot reach the guard who is supposed to be watching this apartment. We’re supposed to lock the door and chain it and wait to hear from him.”

Serena’s whole body stiffened—she was on high alert. She dislodged herself from the sofa and went to the door and double locked it, then put a chair under the door knob. “Let’s get away from the door June.”

“What’s happening?” June asked, her voice frightened.

“It’s probably nothing—maybe he went to the restroom without getting someone to cover him. But it’s better to be safe. Let’s just sit here and wait. We’ll know something shortly. If I know Jean-Guy, he already dispatched agents as soon as he found out the guard wasn’t at his post.”

After a tense 15 minutes passed, there was a sharp knock on the door. “Elizabeth? Suzanne? It’s Jean-Guy. It’s safe to open the door now.”

Serena got up to unchain the door and June grabbed her back. “Wait! What if it’s a trick to lure us out without protection? What if that’s not Jean-Guy?”

Serena hesitated. She didn’t want to be this paranoid in her thinking, and she’d known Jean-Guy for a long time. But still, June was often right about her hunches. “Give me your phone.”

Serena dialed Lizette’s cell phone and, was relieved when she picked up on the first ring. She quickly told her what was happening at the apartment, and Lizette said she was sending 3 guards over to check out what was going on.

“We’ll just wait here until Lizette calls and tells us it’s ok. It doesn’t feel right to me either,” Serena said.

“Come on, ladies—open the door and let me in. It’s me! Jean-Guy!” he said, pounding on the door.

“Should we tell him that we’re getting all of this verified?” June whispered.

“No. Not a word. Just give the guards another minute to get here,” Serena said.

Suddenly, there was a great deal of shouting and banging against the door in the hallway. They heard a thud that sounded like someone being thrown up against the door. There was a lot of shouting in French and English. Then the phone rang—June handed it to Serena.

“Lizette? What happened? Oh, that’s a relief. Is it ok for us to open the door and talk to the guards? Thanks very much. We appreciate it,” Serena said, disconnecting the call.

Serena walked over to the door, removed the chair from under the knob, slid the chain off and opened it. There were 3 armed guards standing around Jean-Guy, who was slumped up against a wall with his hand holding his jaw. “Jean-Guy—do you want to explain yourself please?” Serena said, her voice cold and crisp.

“Suzanne—I just wanted to check to see where the guard went—we finally found him taking an extended, and very unauthorized bathroom break. It seems he has a drug problem and couldn’t restrain himself. The guards that I sent found him passed out. He’s been fired, and arrested for illegal possession. I came over to tell you that everything was safe,” Jean-Guy explained.

“Then you didn’t answer the door, and I got frightened that something had happened, so I started banging on it and yelling for you, which probably made everything a lot worse. Then these guards came and roughed me up a bit to make sure I was who I said I was. You’ll be pleased to know that they checked my ID via retinal scan, so I really am who I say I am.”

“Thank you so much everyone, for your help. I’ll need one of you to stay to guard the door until the regular replacement arrives. Jean-Guy, I’ll need you to follow proper protocol next time—especially when it’s a potentially dangerous situation like this was. We should not have been unguarded for one moment, never mind however long the guard was gone. I’m grateful you discovered the breach and attended to it, but it disturbs me that this happened at all. I’ll need a full report tomorrow morning, along with a list of recommended mitigation strategies.”

“Yes, Special Agent Prince. Understood,” Jean-Guy said, duly chastised and looking sheepish.

“All right—everyone is dismissed except for the replacement guard. Carry on,” Suzanne said as she nodded curtly and closed the door. As soon as she closed it, she started pacing the room, and muttering in French.

“Serena, what’s going on? Is Jean-Guy in a lot of trouble?”

“That’s putting it mildly, June. He is in a fuck-load of trouble, and if he thinks he’s getting a pass because we’re old friends, he’s sadly mistaken. I’m going to demand a full investigation, and I’ll meet with his boss tomorrow. Thank goodness Lizette picked up the phone and handled the situation immediately and sent guards to make sure we were ok. And honestly, a drug-addicted guard means that Jean-Guy was sloppy with who he’s hired as our protection team. And that will not stand. The good news is, nothing happened, and we were never in danger. That’s the important thing to take away from all of this.”

“So what was the big protocol breach, Serena?” June asked.

“Banging on the door and yelling for us to open it did nothing to calm the situation. He should have chosen another way to identify himself to me. And lord knows, he knows enough of our code phrases—he had a dozen to pick from. And I almost blew it myself. I should not have answered the door just because I recognized the voice. You were right to be suspicious, and I’m so grateful you stopped me. My own guard is down, and that’s not good. I’m grateful you’re being hyper-vigilant. It’s what’s needed now,” Serena said, pulling June into a hug. She could feel June’s heart beating fast—from the adrenaline she supposed. “June, are you ok, or is it just taking you a little while to calm down from all the excitement?”

“Well, actually, watching Special Agent Prince come out and take charge of the situation like that was seriously fucking hot,” June said, as she took Serena’s hand and slipped it between her legs so she could feel the heat that was building.

“Is it hot in here, or are you just happy to see me?” Serena asked, capturing June’s lips in a sizzling kiss, while her hand slipped inside the waist band of her pants. Delighted to find June’s panties soaked, she extracted her hand and walked June backwards until her legs were against the side of the bed, then she laid her down. “Oh, I’m really sorry—you said you weren’t up for this,” Serena said, laying down beside her and slowly and sensuously kissing her way up June’s neck. “Would you like me to stop?” she asked as she let her lips hover over June’s shoulder and had one hand playing with the button of June’s pants.

June’s breath was ragged and her pupils were dark. “I think you’re going to need to strip-search me Special Agent Prince,” she dead-panned.

“But I haven’t even read you your rights yet,” Serena said, teasing June while popping the button of her pants open and sliding her zipper down.

“Yeeessss,” June hissed, as she felt Serena’s fingers sliding past her mound and slipping right into her very hot, very wet pussy.

“Oh, there’s definitely a violation or two in here. I’ll have to make a thorough search, which is, unfortunately, hampered by all this clothing,” Serena said as she slid her hand completely out of June and brought her fingers to her mouth. June whimpered at the loss of contact, and said, “Please Special Agent Prince. I’ll do anything you need me to do. Just please…get on with the strip-search.”

“As you wish,” Serena said as she slid June’s pants off her hips and jerked them down past her knees. She felt June’s legs trying to wriggle out of her pants legs, and tried very hard not to laugh. _I learn something new every day about this one_ , Serena thought to herself, trying to maintain a serious expression, lest she blow June’s fantasy. She pulled June’s t-shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor, then proceeded to conduct a thorough search of June’s bra, making sure that there was nothing hidden inside before she finally unhooked it and let if fall away. June’s nipples were hard and aching, and Serena took pity on them and fondled them for a minute or two, leaving each with a twist and a pull that was hard enough that June could still feel it minutes later.

“If you keep moving around like that, I’ll have to charge you with resisting an officer in the commission of her regular duties,” Serena said, as she covered June’s mound with her hand, and held her fingers just at her entrance. June was soaked, and Serena’s own arousal was off the charts.

“Sorry Agent Prince. I’ll try to stay still,” June said, trying to sound contrite.

“That’s Special Agent Prince, and see that you do,” Serena growled as she slammed 4 fingers inside June, taking her completely off guard. It took every bit of control for June to just feel Serena’s fingers thrusting inside her without her hips answering back, but it actually made the whole thing hotter, if that was possible. _Fuck, is this why people like to be restrained during sex_? June wondered, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of trying not to move while she was being well-fucked. She was already incredibly aroused by Serena’s display of authority over all those armed guards and Jean-Guy—and apparently, she excelled at role-playing. _What a shock—of course she does—she’s a fucking spy_ , June thought, as her head and her body were swimming in pleasure. Serena continued fucking her, making certain that her palm was hitting against June’s clit with every stroke. She was dying to put her mouth on June, but that would have to wait—June was too close to slow things down. Serena settled for pulling her nipple into her mouth and sucking it as hard as she thought June could stand, and was rewarded with a deep moan. Serena picked up the pace and fucked June still harder and faster, and smiled when she felt a gush of hot fluid coming out of June’s pussy.

“Oh fuck, Serena—now, please!” June begged, and Serena slammed her hand as hard as she could inside June, and when she felt her whole-body tense, she bit down on her shoulder—hard. June let out a long moan, as she finally released into a mind-blowing orgasm that made her ears ring. Serena stayed inside her until the spasms stopped, then gently removed her fingers and brought them to June’s mouth, watching as her lover hungrily devoured her own, slick juices.

“Now that, Special Agent Prince, was a strip search!” June exclaimed, collapsing into a fit of laughter.

“I am a trained professional, after all,” Serena said, before her laughter bubbled out to join June’s.

“Seriously, though…fuck,” June said, still trying to catch her breath.

“Wait till I get my strength back. Then you’ll really be in trouble,” Serena said, rolling over onto her back.

“Can’t wait,” June said as she sat up on the bed and finally managed to wrench her legs free of her pants, while Serena was unbuttoning her shirt and sliding her own pants off.

“Since I’m still Special Agent Prince, I’m ordering you to get your head between my legs and give me a reason not to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

“Oh, was I too loud, Agent Prince?” June asked smirking as she slid her body down and positioned her face directly over Serena’s pussy. “Christ you’re so fucking hot,” she said as she covered Serena’s pussy with her mouth, sucking in all the juices that had been freely flowing while she was fucking her. Her tongue worked its way through her slick folds, in long, strong strokes, starting from the bottom of her slit all the way to the top of her clit. Serena arched her back and her legs started to tremble—she was already so fucking close. June slid three fingers inside Serena and moved her mouth up to her clit, sucking it into her mouth and swirling her tongue around the hard numb. As her fingers took up a fast pace, her mouth continued to suck and lick Serena’s clit, quickly overwhelming her. She grabbed the back of June’s head and pushed it into her pussy—hard. “Don’t fucking stop—I’m right there,” Serena said and moments later, her body tensed and a tidal wave of pleasure crashed over her body, her hips still bucking into June’s face trying to prolong her orgasm as long as possible. When her movements finally stilled, June slipped her fingers out and brought her body up beside Serena, offering her a taste. “Well, you know I’m not going to say no,” she said as she brought June’s fingers to her mouth and licked up every drop, then pulled June into a passionate kiss. They lay together, spent, happy, and calmer than they’d been in days.

“I don’t suppose you have a badge, or something, do you?” June asked mischievously. “For next time.”


	45. Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't out to get you

A few days later, Serena had packed up her hospital room and was in June’s hospital ‘apartment’ helping her do the same thing. This was their last chance to spend time with each other before Serena transferred to the new facility for more inpatient treatment. “Are you nervous about going into the program?” June asked.

“I’m not looking forward to it, if that’s what you mean. But how are you feeling about it?” Serena asked.

“I’m not going to lie. I’m pretty nervous, but I’m trying to keep my thoughts in the present and not awfulize.”

“What’s making you nervous?”

“Gilead—Gilead is making me nervous. I have to ration the amount of time I spend watching the news and surfing the internet, because invariably, Gilead is in the news. And I keep waiting to hear that there’s an all-out hunt for us, and that they’re demanding our return immediately. And I know I said I was fine with walking away from June Osborne and her life forever, but I have to tell you, it’s really hard. Stupid things, like wanting to check my email, or accessing my cloud account with Hannah’s baby pictures and pictures of my family—I can’t very well do that if June Osborne is underground, supposedly still captive in Gilead, or dead. I have to constantly check and re-check my thinking before I do anything, particularly electronically. I don’t want to be the person who blows our cover and gets us caught,” June said, closing her suitcase and putting it on the floor beside the door.

“Come sit here with me,” Serena said, patting a spot next to her on the small sofa.

“No—I only function well if I keep moving. You’re going to try to make me stop and talk about my feelings, and we have to get out of here and get you to the new hospital. Then I need to get back home and figure out what to do with my days since I won’t be coming to see you hardly at all for the next two weeks,’ June said, pretending to straighten out the kitchen.

“June, we have 3 hours before we even need to think about leaving. We have time, and it seems like you have a lot on your mind and need to talk. I’m not tired, I’m not over exerted, and I’m not battling Mrs. Waterford for domination of my personality, at the moment, so please--come here, sit down, and talk to me.”

June sighed and walked over to the couch. She sat down, crossed her arms across her chest, and crossed her legs in front of her.

“All righty, then,” Serena said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I can see that you’re defensive and not terribly open at the moment, but let’s try to talk anyway. I know you and Hannah had your first couple of sessions with your new therapists—how is that going?”

“Hannah loves Dr. Chang. She likes the cool toys she has in her office, and amazingly enough, she has no trouble talking to her about how she feels—which is awesome, particularly since I’m sure she wasn’t encouraged to do so when she was with the MacKenzies,” June said. “Dr. Chang wants to see her twice a week, and Hannah’s fine with that.”

“That’s so good, June. I’m sure you’re relieved. I know I am. And how are things going with her tutor?”

“Really, really well. She’s eager to learn, and every night, we read a couple of stories together before she goes to sleep. Sometimes, she wants to try to read the story herself, and for the most part, she’s able to with a little prompting. It’s a huge relief that she’s enjoying it and her mind is engaged. Her days are pretty programmed and full. It’s mine that are not,” June said, sullenly.

“Are you bored out of your mind?” Serena asked.

“I have too much time to think and too little to do to occupy myself. I go for a run every day, and I try to make sure I cook nutritious meals for Hannah. Georges and I go to the grocery store once or twice a week, and we take Hannah to the park some days. She plays with the neighborhood kids and we drink take-out coffee and eat giant cookies. Which, to be completely honest with you, makes me feel a fuck of a lot better than sitting with that smug prick therapist the Agency put me with. I know that it’s important that whoever I talk with has to be affiliated with the Agency, and I get that. But I feel like he’s trying to dig around for information about Gilead more than he’s trying to help me. And I don’t know how much sitting and talking about all the shit I’ve been through is really going to help me. It’s like picking at a scab until it oozes blood and pus for 45 minutes, and then I have to cheerfully skip down the hallway and pick up Hannah from her session. It’s hard to work on fixing me at the same time as I’m trying to make sure my daughter doesn’t have a psychotic break from being kidnapped and separated from her family for so long.”

June ran out of steam, and looked over at Serena, who opened her arms to her. June fell into her embrace and started to cry—heart-wrenching, wracking sobs, that she couldn’t have stopped if she tried. Serena held her closely, and stroked her hair and rubbed the middle of her back in soothing circular motions. It went on, and on and on, her tears soaking Serena’s t-shirt and just when it seemed June was really never going to be able to stop crying, her sobs slowed down a bit. Serena reached for the box of tissues that were on the table next to her, pulled out half a dozen, and placed them in her lap for whenever June needed them. June lifted her head a little, sat up, wiped her tear-stained face, and blew her nose a couple of times.

“I’m sorry about that. I don’t know where that came from,” June said sheepishly. “You’re pretty good at the whole comforting thing.”

“It’s easy with you,” Serena said, depositing a kiss on her forehead, and guiding June to lay down on the couch and rest her head in her lap. June was quiet for awhile, except for a few residual sniffles.

“And as far as where the tears came from, does it matter?” Serena said. “Clearly, they needed to be shed. There’s everything you’ve gone through for the past several years, not to mention the stress of the past few weeks. And you’ve had to hold it all together—for Hannah, for me, and for yourself. And maybe now, knowing that Hannah is doing ok, and I’m going to be someone else’s problem for the next couple of weeks, you were able to let your guard down enough to let go and let someone else take care of you for a minute. And I’m grateful that you let me sit with you and hold you while you cried.”

“Careful, Serena. If you’re too nice to me, the waterworks are going to start all over again. Where’s Mrs. Waterford when I need her?” June said, clearly joking.

“Oh, she’s around somewhere, but even she is moved by your pain,” Serena said, stroking June’s face lightly with her fingertips.

“My mom used to do that to me after I cried. I’d crawl into her lap, and she would stroke my face until I calmed down or fell asleep. You know they sent her to the Colonies, right? I saw her on a film they showed us at the Red Center. They were trying to scare the shit out of us and show how much worse our lives could be if we weren’t chosen to be Handmaids. I literally had no time to react to seeing her on the film, and had I done so, I would have gotten my eye blown out by Aunt Lydia. I’m sure that miserable cunt picked the footage that had my mother in it, just to see if I’d crumble. I remember crying in my cot that night as quietly as I could, and Moira trying to shush me and comfort me at the same time, and all I wanted to do was scream until my throat bled.”

“I’m so sorry about your mom, and the way you found out. That’s hideous. Were the two of you close?”

“Yes and no. I mean, I loved her—she was my mom. And I know how much she loved me. Just sometimes she let me down. She was a feminist, and her whole life was devoted to helping women. She was one of the last doctors in the country to continue to perform abortions, and she had a target on her back bigger than Texas. Her life was her work. She raised me to be independent and expected me to be able to take care of myself. She took me to rallies and marches, and I was around all of her friends who were just like her—most of them lesbians, interestingly enough. And there I was, just wanting to be a normal girl, with a normal mom, who made my lunch every day, showed up for my recitals, helped me with my homework and let me pour my heart out to her about the boy I had a crush on. She wanted more for me than that. She would say “You are spectacular June! I didn’t give birth to you so that you’d be ordinary. Don’t waste your life by giving your power away to a man. Do something important!”

“She sounds pretty amazing, but a challenging woman to have as a mom. And I didn’t know you grew up surrounded by lesbians. How ironic,” Serena said chuckling.

“I really was. I never heard my mom talk about men outside of my father, and that never was very complimentary. She did have a few serious relationships with women, and it was just normal to me—like it should be. Of all the shit that I have to deal with now, post-Gilead, being in a relationship with a woman is literally the least of my worries—it doesn’t even register as a problem. It’s just kind of normal, even if it is new. And hey, not to change the subject, but I’m changing the subject,” June said, sitting up and facing Serena. “Can you pull any strings and find me a better therapist? I don’t trust him at all—I can’t explain it, but he just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Hmm…that’s weird that he’s such a bad fit for you. We went through the referrals you got and he seemed to have the best credentials and the most experience dealing with complicated trauma.” Serena said. “But of course—I’ll make sure you have more referrals to look at tomorrow. And if you don’t feel safe with him, just don’t go to him anymore.”

“Not to sound paranoid, Serena, but are we sure he’s Agency-friendly, or is he perhaps someone who is not on our side—or my side for that matter?” June asked.

“I’m learning not to doubt your instincts. As soon as I got sick, you immediately thought someone had poisoned me, and I said you watched too many spy shows. Maybe if I’d listened to you right away, we could have mitigated some of the damage the anthrax did to my body,” Serena said. “I’m going to have him checked out.”

“Thanks. Now, as much fun as it is talking about my fears and misery, let’s talk about yours. What are you nervous about?” June asked.

“Mostly my fears center around leaving you for 2 weeks. I’m nervous that Nichole will arrive and I won’t be there to help you take of her and Hannah. Plus, well, I really, really miss her. It’s going to be so hard knowing that she’s back with you and I’m trapped in that hospital,” Serena said. “And I’m worried about Gilead too—specifically, I’m worried about how afraid you are of them and the threat they pose to us. Does it help to talk about it? Because you can always talk to me, even when I’m in the hospital. You can talk to me at least once a day, and you’ll see me in person a couple of times too. And while I’m in the hospital, I’ve specifically instructed Jean-Guy and Georges to keep you well informed, keep you protected, and keep you from freaking out about being snatched and sent back to Gilead. I swear to you, the only people who know who we are—all three of us—are Lizette, Georges, Jean-Guy and Jacques, the pilot who got us out. That’s it. There is no way Gilead could have tracked us. And even if they did, they cannot get to us. Canada has no extradition to Gilead. None. Neither does the UK.”

“But they can have their spies grab us and haul us back,” June said.

“I suppose that’s a possibility—but I’m moving to a more secure compound than I’ve already been in for the last few weeks. And you have 24/7 security on you had Hannah at all times. It doesn’t seem very likely,” Serena said, taking June’s hand.

“But I’m still afraid,” June said.

“Of course you are. It would be weird if you weren’t afraid. But in the absence of evidence, try not to let your fears get the best of you.”

“I’ll do my best,” June said. “But somehow you keep deflecting the conversation back to me and my fears. The question is about you and what you are nervous about.”

“I just told you. And I don’t want to spend 2 weeks being all touchy-feely with my emotions. I’d rather eat dirt, but here I am—ready to start serving my sentence. I will literally be counting the days until I can see you again,” Serena said, bringing June’s hand to her lips for a kiss.

“Is that the best you’ve got for me?” June said, issuing a challenge.

“That depends,” Serena replied. “You’ve said that sex is our go-to when we don’t want to deal with our feelings. Is that what you are trying to do?"

“Absolutely,” June dead-panned. “But practically speaking, 2 weeks is a long time to go without feeling your amazing mouth on me.”

“Yes, I’ll have to say, that does seem pretty daunting. If I’m honest, it’s probably most of the reason I didn’t want to do the inpatient thing.”

“Serena! That’s very Mrs. Waterford of you, putting what you need ahead of what’s good for everyone else,” June teased.

“Of course it is. She is one thirsty bitch,” Serena said laughing. “And so am I apparently, since we share a body.”

“We still have an hour and a half, ladies—what do you say?” June asked, smirking.

“Are you sure you can handle us?” Serena asked.

“Nope—I’m not sure at all,” June said, standing up from the couch and offering her hand to Serena. “But let’s mosey over to the bed and see if we can make a memory or two to sustain us until you get sprung.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Serena said, stripping her still wet t-shirt off and tossing it onto the floor.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this concludes the first part of the story. I decided to divide this up into sections, otherwise I'd have a 90 chapter story and that just seems like a lot. I have loved every single minute writing this, and all of your lovely comments and Kudos. I love this pair to the point of obsession, and I'm completely unapologetic about it. 
> 
> Part II is called We know what we are, but know not what we may be (a nod to Shakespeare's Hamlet for any literary fans) and continues right where Midnight ends. Thank you all for reading and encouraging me. It means a lot.


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